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THE 



DREN'S 13RUSADE: 



AN EPISODE OF THE THIRTEENTH CENTURV. 



BY 



GEORGE ZABRISKIE GRAY. 




I 
NEW YORK: 

PUBLISHED BY HURD AND HOUGHTON. 

Camfirttffle: Etfoertfttre |9retf£. 

1872. 



[THE LIBRARY; 

[•* C ONG RESS j; 

[Washington!! 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by 

George Zabriskie Gray, 

in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 



3l(?C| 



RIVERSIDE, CAMBRIDGE! 
STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY 



H. O. HOUGHTON AND COMPANY. 



Ulilir. Hie vide perigrinacionem puerorum et qualiter pe> 

incantaciones sunt decepti. 
II lis temporibus stupendum quid crevit. 
Mundoque mirabilis truffa inolevit. 
Nam sub boni specie malum sic succrevit. 
Arte quidem magica ista late sevit. 
2kubr. Hie est carmen quod ubique cantabatur. 
Nycolaus famulus Christi transfretabit. 
Et cum innocentibus Ierusalem intrabit. 
Mare siccis pedibus securus calcabit. 
Juvenes et virgines caste copulabit. 
Ad honorem Domini tanta perpetrabit. 
Quod pax jubilacio Deo laus sonabit. 
Paganos et perfidos omnes baptizabit. 
Omnis in Jerusalem carmen hoc cantabit. 
Pax nunc christicolis Christus proximabit. 
Et redemptos sanguine mire collustrabit. 
Nycolai pueros omnes coronabit. 
3&uI)V. Talis devocio ante hec non est audita. 
Aures cunctis pruriunt virgines ornantur. 
Annos infra sedecim evangelizantur. 
Concurrentes pueri certant ut sequantur. 
Et rumare viderant casso consolantur. 
Ungarus Theutunicus Francus sociantur. 
■ Koemus Lombardicus Brittoque conantur. 
1 •'iandria Vestfalia omnes federantur. 



IV 

Friso cum Norwagia cuncti conglobantur. 

Prurit pes et oculus pueros venantur. 

Illi de Brundusio virgines stuprantur. 

Et in arcum pessimum passim venumdantur. 

Risum luctus occopat digne lamentantur. 

Plorant matres ut Rachel nati morti dantur. 

Vanitates hauriunt pueri fraudantur. 

( Vide Appendix C.) 



PREFACE. 



There are some minor episodes of history 
that have not received the attention which they 
seem to merit. Historians have been too much 
occupied with events of greater importance, to 
stop and explore these by-ways as they passed 
them. The same reason led the chroniclers of 
the times to preserve no more than scanty de- 
tails concerning them, and consequently these 
worthies often dismiss with a few words, inci- 
dents that have more interest than others to 
which they give many a dreary page. 

This has been the case with the transaction 
to which this volume is devoted. Although 
pertaining to a sphere so interesting as the 
child-life of other and remote days, yet it has 
been almost forgotten. Many are not aware of 
its occurrence. Some have regarded it as a 
myth. 



VI PREFACE. 

It is generally referred to, with varying full- 
ness, in works that treat of the Crusades, but 
not always with accuracy of statement. The 
most copious accounts are given in Raumer's 
" Geschichte der Hohenstaufen," Herter's " In- 
nocent III.," Menzel's " Deutschland," Wilken's 
" Kreuzziige," Haken's "Gemalde der Kreuz- 
ziige," Sporschild's " Kreuzziige," " L'Esprit 
des Croisades," by Mailly, " Histoire des Croi- 
sades," by Michaud, " Influence des Croisades," 
by Choiseul d'Aillecourt, Mill's " History of the 
Crusades," and Hecker's "Child-pilgrimages." 
Many authors, in whose writings we would ex- 
pect some reference to the subject, are entirely 
silent concerning it. 

But, otherwise than with the brevity neces- 
sary to a casual mention in the course of his- 
torical narratives, this theme has never been 
treated. As far as I can ascertain, it has never 
been the subject of a volume, nor have the origi- 
nal materials been thoroughly explored and ex- 
hausted. A small Sunday-school book was pub- 
lished several years ago, called " The Crusade 
of the Children," but it was merely a brief 
fiction based upon the event. 



PREFACE. - VU 

It is therefore because the field was untrod- 
den, and because I thought that the story told 
in its completeness would possess interest, that 
I have written this book. 

As regards the Chronicles that refer to the 
event, a list is given of all that have yet been 
found by others and by myself. For their 
trustworthiness, it is sufficient for me that 
such writers as Wilken, Herter, and Michaud 
rely fully upon their statements. In the notes 
I have not thought it necessary to give the 
particular source of each fact in the course of 
the narrative, but have only done so in the 
cases of those of prominence, or of those that 
are peculiar. 

Hecker regards it and treats it as one of 
the " Epidemics of the Middle Ages " of which 
he writes. They who wish to view it in that 
light, can consult his pages. It may seem to 
some that to regard it as such, and to call it by 
such a name, is to open the door for the admis- 
sion into the list of diseases, of many transac- 
tions that the world has been wont to view, not 
in that way, but rather as the manifestations of 



Vlll PREFACE. 

the universal " epidemics " of human ignorance 
and folly. 

I have sought to write in sympathy with the 
little ones whose fortunes are followed in this 
strange movement. It has been difficult to 
restrain feelings produced by a vivid realization 
of their chequered experiences. While I pored, 
during several months, over the story, in quaint 
and dusty Chronicles, where even monkish Latin 
warms with its theme, it sometimes seemed as if 
the children's songs were in the air, and their 
banners in the breeze. 

I hope that the attractiveness which the 
•iheme has had in my eyes, may not have caused 
me to overestimate too much the interest it 
may have for others, and that they who read 
this volume may find in its perusal some of the 
pleasure which accompanied its composition. 

G. Z. G. 

Trinity Rectory, Bergen Point, N. J., 
May, 1870. 



Some verbal changes have been made since 
the first edition. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

CHRONICLES CONSULTED AND QUOTED XI 

CHAPTER I. 

INTRODUCTORY . . I 

CHAPTER II. 

THE RISING IN FRANCE 23 

CHAPTER III. 

THE GATHERING OF THE GERMAN CHILDREN . . 56 

CHAPTER IV. 

THE ARMY OF NICHOLAS 7 1 

CHAPTER V. 

THE ARMY WITH THE UNKNOWN LEADER . ... I08 

CHAPTER VI. 

THE RETURN OF THE GERMAN CHILDREN . . .122 

CHAPTER VII. 

THE JOURNEY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN . . . 129 

CHAPTER VIII. 

THE TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA . . . . 1 67 



X CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER IX. 

» PAG8 

THE FATE OF THE LEADERS AND OF THE BETRAYERS 212 

CHAPTER X. 

ECCLESIA NOVORUM INNOCENTIUM .... 222 

APPENDICES 231 



CHRONICLES ETC. CONSULTED AND 
QUOTED. 



1. Caffari) Annates Genuenses, ab anno iioi. Annals of Ge- 

noa, by Caffari, a statesman of the time. To be found 
in Muratori's collection of chronicles, called "Rerum 
Italicarum Scriptores." 

2. Sicardi, Episcopi Cremonensis Chronicon. The Chronicle 

of Sicardi, Bishop of Cremona. Also in Muratori's col- 
lection. 

3. Godefridi Monachi Sancti Pantaleonis aped Coloniam Agrip- 

pinam annates, ab anno 1162 ad annum 1237. The An- 
nals of Godfrey, Monk of St. Pantaleon in Cologne. 
Found in the collection called " Rerum Germanicarum 
Scriptores," edited by Struve. 

4. Alberti Abbatis Stadensis Chronicon a condita orbe usque ad 

annum Christi 1256. Chronicle of Albert, Abbot of 
Stade, from the Creation to A. D. 1256. Also in " Re- 
rum Germ. Scriptores/' 

5. Chronicon Coenobii Mortui Maris. Chronicle of the Monas- 

tery of the Dead Sea, from a. d. 1113 to A. D. 1235. 
Found in " Recueil des Historiens des Gaules et de la 
France." 

6. Anon. Chron. Rhythmicum. Anonymous Rhythmical 

Chronicle. In Rauch's " Rerum Austriacarum Scripto- 
res." Probably written by Jo- Benedictus Gentilotus. 

7. Roger Bacon, Opus Majus. 

%. Chron. Alberici Monachi Trium Fontium Leodinensis Dijfr 



Xll CHRONICLES. 

cesis. Chronicle of Alberic, Monk of Liege. Found in 
the " Accessiones Historicae " of Leibnitius, vol. ii. 

9. Roger de Wendover's Chronicle, commonly identified with 

that of Matthew of Paris, of which it is a sequel. 

10. Fragment by an unknozvn author, prefixed to the Chronicle 

" Alberti Argentinensis,"" found in the collection of Chris- 
tian-Urstisius, called " Germaniae Historici Illustres." 

11. Chron. anon. Laudunense. Anonymous Chronicle of Laon. 

Found in " Recueil des Hist, des Gaules et de la France." 

12. Bibliotheca Mundi, Vincentii Burgiindi Prcesidis Bellova- 

censis, etc. Library of the World, by Vincent, Bishop 
of Beauvais. Vol. iv., which is called Speadum Histo- 
riale. 

13. Chron. Sythiense Sancti Bertini. Chronicle of St. Bertin, 

by Jean d' Ypres. In " Recueil des Historiens des Gaules 
et de la France." 

14. Chron. Sancti Medardi Suessuonis. Chronicle of St. Me- 

dard's Monastery at Soissons. 

15. Lamberti Parvi, Leodinensis Sancti Jacobi Monasterii Mon~ 

achi Chron. Chronicle of Lambert of Liege, continued 
by another monk, Rainer, by whose name it is often 
called. Found in the collection compiled by Edmund 
Martin and Ursinus Durand, called " Veterum Scripto- 
rum Monumentorum, historicorum, dogmaticorum, mor- 
alium amplissima collectio." 

16. Gesta Trevirorum, in same collection. 

17. Thomce Cantipratani, Bonum universale de Apibus. Thomas 

of Champre. 

18. Ogerii Panis Chronicon. Chronicle of Ogerius. In Mu- 

ratori's collection. 

19. Petri Bizari, Senatus Populique Genuensis Historia. His- 

tory of Senate and People of Genoa, by Peter Bizarus. 

20. Magmcm Chronicon. Belgicum. The Great Belgian Chron- 

icle. Found in Pistori's Collection of German Writers. 
21* Fasciculus Temporum. In the same collection. 



CHRONICLES. Xlll 

22. Gesta Dei per Francos. Deeds of God by the French. 

23. Chronicon Argenteum. The Silver Chronicle. In Mura- 

tori's collection. 

24. John Massey's Chronicle. 

25. Anonymoits Chronicle of Strasburg. 

26. Uberti Folieti Chron. Chronicle of Hubertus Folietus. 

27. Chron. Senoniense. Chronicle of the Senones. 

28. Chronicon de Civitate Jannense, ed. a Fratre Jacobo de Vo- 

ragine. Chronicle of Genoa, by James of Vorago, or 
Jacques de Vitry. In Muratori. 

29. Chron. Rotomagense. Chronicle of Rouen. 

30. Anon. Chron. Austriaaim. Anonymous Austrian Chroni- 

cle. 

At least the first six Chronicles are contemporaneous, that 
is, they contain information written by persons that lived at 
the time of the Children's Crusade. The others were com- 
piled at later dates (nearly all within a short time after the 
event), and their value is due to the fact that their materials 
were drawn from other contemporaneous documents that now 
are either destroyed or else cannot be found. 

As editions of these works vary, it is unnecessary to state 
the volumes or pages where reference is made to the Chil- 
dren's Crusade. It will be found by simply turning to the date 
of the transaction, as the* Chronicles narrate the events of each 
year consecutively. I found many of the authorities in the 
Astor Library. Some of them I consulted in the Imperial 
Library in Paris. Several had never been explored. 

Other authors whose names are given in the notes are 
writers who have, in recent times, treated of the Crusades or 
kindred subjects. 



THE CHILDREN'S CRUSADE. 



CHAPTER I. 

INTRODUCTORY. 



The Holy Land ! What manifold associa- 
tions cluster around that little spot of earth on 
which break the blue waves of the Mediterra- 
nean when they reach its easternmost limit ! 
Memories the most sacred, the most tender, 
and the most thrilling, cause the very name to 
call up before us a vista of the past such as no 
other land possesses. As we muse on the 
sound of the words, we hear the Singer's harp 
and the Prophet's lyre, and we catch echoes of 
the Apostle's eloquence ; there rise up memo- 
ries of men and women whose stories are .the 
world's best treasure ; the forms of Abraham, 
of Samuel, of David, and of Isaiah sweep by 
in majesty, and, after them, lovelier and loftier 
than all, we see the figure of that One for whom 



2 INTROD UCTOR Y. 

they looked. For that land, and it alone, has 
felt the footsteps of Incarnate Deity ! 

What a history that land has seen of peace and 
of turmoil, of freedom and of bondage, of glory 
and of shame ! Across it has the tide of con- 
quest rolled in every age ; its plains have been 
enriched by the blood of many a different race. 
It lies before us, as we think of it, now in the 
sunshine of the days when Ruth gleaned in its 
fields, now in the splendor of Solomon's rule, 
and then we see its condition portrayed in that 
medal which the Roman victors struck, where, 
at the foot of a lonely palm, a weeping maiden 
sits, and beneath which we read the mournful 
words : Judea Capta. 

How many hearts have loved that land ! Pa- 
triotism in its most ardent forms has never 
equalled the devotion that Israel's children 
have felt for Israel's soil. When within its bor- 
ders, they have loved it with an intensity that 
made each hill a shrine, and the thought of leav- 
ing it,like the thought of death. When absent 
irom it, in their repeated exiles, their hearts 
nave gone out to its mountains and its valleys, 
its skies and its streams, with yearnings that 
could not be expressed. Wherever they have 
sojourned, it has still been to them their only 
home, and to-day, in every clime, a scattered 



INTROD UCTOR Y. 3 

nation loves it of all lands alone. They dream 
of the promised time when it shall be their own 
abode again, and, when their lives are closing, 
they journey thither with tottering limbs, to die, 
because they think the sleep of the grave is 
sweeter there. 

How many feet have sought that land ! The 
pathways to it from every part of earth have 
been worn by the staves and the footsteps of 
pilgrims. In the front we see the venerable 
form of him who, " when he was called to go 
out into a place which he should after receive 
for an inheritance, obeyed, and he went out, 
not knowing whither he went." Thence, down 
to these busier times, stretches the long pro- 
cession of those that have travelled far, to 
kneel and to dwell on soil that, to the pious 
heart, is like no other soil. And as it has been 
in the past, it will be in the future. Oldest 
shrines may be deserted, superstition may pass 
away, but the sense of reverence and the power 
of association will never so far perish that they 
who have the Bible will no longer care to visit 
the Holy Land. 

Poets may tell us of romance, but there is 
no romance like that of this consecrated Pales- 
tine, — consecrated by the lives that have illu- 
mined it, by the love that has been lavished on 



4 INTRO D UCTOR Y. 

it, by the blood that has been shed for it, by 
the Voice that has been heard in it ! What 
land is like that ancient Canaan, which, so fair 
and so cherished, has given us all a name for 
Heaven ! 

But of all the associations linked with that 
magic name, none are more strange than those 
of the wars for its liberation from the Moslem. 
The Crusades alone would endue any land 
with a deathless interest. 

When the followers of the false Prophet had 
overcome its feeble defenders, pilgrims still 
sought Palestine, undeterred by the perils they 
might meet. But as years passed by, they were 
more and more oppressed and maltreated, so 
that they who returned brought back to Europe 
sad tales of suffering of the believers there, and 
of increasing desecration of the spots con- 
nected with the life and the passion of Imman- 
uel. At length, in the eleventh century, these 
reports became so numerous and so exciting, 
that there ran throughout Christendom a thrill 
of indignation. Then Peter the Hermit raised 
his voice to plead for the deliverance of those 
sacred scenes, and the response came from 
every nation of Europe. Thus began those 
wonderful wars, in which, with a devotion and 
persistency that are unique in history, host 



INTRO D UCTOR Y. 5 

after host assembled, fought, and died. Even 
as the billows of the sea roll, one after another, 
against a rocky coast, so did the noblest and 
best of Europe's life, for more than two hun- 
dred years, rush against the exhaustless ranks 
of Asiatic power, and as vainly. At times 
success seemed near at hand, but the heathen 
front rolled back the tide, and stood defiant 
and unmoved at last. 

It is with an episode in this war of ages that 
we are now to be concerned. We are to tell 
how, in this mighty movement, there was a 
wave of child-life, to describe the part in that 
undying love for the Holy Land and in the 
weary seeking of its shores, that has been 
taken by children's hearts and by children's 
feet. 

But before entering upon the theme, it 
would be well to prepare the way by glancing 
at certain points that suggest themselves, and, 
first of all, let us review the history of the Cru- 
sades, in order that we may perceive the causes 
which led to the arousing of the young to 
interest themselves in the struggle — 

" To chase these pagans in those holy fields, 
Over whose acres walk'd those blessed feet, 
Which eighteen hundred years ago were nail'd 
For our advantage to the bitter cross." 



6 INTROD UCTOR K 

II. 
State of the Cause of the Crusades. 

During eighty-eight years Palestine had been 
in the hands of the Crusaders, and Christian 
kings had ruled in Jerusalem. But this episode 
of romance and of glory was ended when, in 
1 187, Saladin routed the Christian armies at 
Tiberias, after which all the land was subdued, 
save a few«strongholds over which there still rose 
the banner of the Crusaders. This catastrophe 
awakened grief and consternation throughout 
Europe, and at once the third Crusade was un- 
dertaken by the Germans under Barbarossa 
and the English under Cceur de Lion. The 
exploits of the two allied armies revived for a 
while the drooping hopes of the Christians, but 
soon there arose perfidy at home and treason in 
the camp. These did as much to render fruit- 
less the achievements of Richard as did the 
power and skill of Saladin. Consequently, at 
the end of the campaign the Crescent waved 
as defiantly as ever, over the land of Israel. 

The fourth Crusade, from 1195 to 1 198, led 
by Henry VI. of Germany, was equally a failure. 
There were gained some brilliant victories, but 
dissensions divided the armies, and at last a 
truce was made with the Mohammedans. It is 



STATE OF THE CAUSE OF THE CRUSADES. 7 

true that these victories made the Crusaders 
masters of the sea-coast, but, when the armies 
departed, the Christian king found himself in 
possession of cities which he was unable to gar- 
rison, and which he felt could be held only by 
the sufferance of the enemy. 

The fifth Crusade, preached in 1 198, was per- 
verted by the avarice of Venice and the ambi- 
tion of its leaders, to the conquest of Constan- 
tinople. The knights, plunged in the luxury 
of that city, heeded not the appeals from Pales- 
tine, but allowed the besieged and suffering, for 
whose rescue they had enlisted, to linger and 
die without an effort in their behalf. Fortress 
after fortress was wrested from the Christians, 
until at length there remained to the king, 
John of Brienne, but the city of Ptolemais ; 
while to the north, only Tripoli and Antioch 
owned the sway of their counts. The Sultan 
was preparing a vast army with which these 
feeble forces would soon be overcome. Then, 
moved to desperation by the emergency, the 
Christians sent to Europe a heart-rending cry 
for help. 

But Europe responded sluggishly to the ap- 
peal. It was not until several years after the 
ordering of the sixth Crusade by Innocent, that 
an army departed for the scene of conflict. 



o INTRODUCTORY. 

It was during this interval that the movement 
of the young occurred, they having been aroused 
by the measures taken by the Pope to excite 
the people. 

For these measures were varied as the energy 
of the man would lead us to expect, and resulted 
in a feverish excitement throughout Europe. 
He wrote to the Sultans of Cairo and Damas- 
cus, urging them to yield the contested land. 
But his other efforts were of a more practical 
nature. Priests and bishops were sent every- 
where, to awaken enthusiasm by appeals, argu- 
ments, and threats, repeating often : " I came not 
to bring peace, but a sword." Processions were 
held in the cities and towns, to entreat God for 
the imperilled cause and to enkindle the zeal of 
the beholders. Sermons had no other theme. 
The Saviour was spoken of as a king banished 
from his heritage, and Jerusalem as a captive 
queen, appealing to the loyal heart to enlist in 
her behalf. Salvation was almost made to de- 
pend upon the recovery of the Holy Sepulchre, 
and, in dwelling on the scenes of the Saviour's, 
sufferings, the true value of those sufferings was 
forgotten. Innocent himself, in his uncompro- 
mising zeal, revoked permission to engage in all 
other Crusades, except that against the Albi- 
genses, and endeavored to stop all wars, so 



STATE OF THE CAUSE OF THE CRUSADES. C, 

that nations might concentrate their energies 
upon this great enterprise. He crowned his 
labors and appeals with his famous exclamation, 
"Sword, sword, start from the scabbard and 
sharpen thyself to kill ! " 

As so many disastrous and fruitless expedi- 
tions had dampened the interest of Christen- 
dom and shaken its faith in the Crusades, little 
response was given to the frantic efforts of the 
Pope ; but the arts and appeals which had so 
slight effect upon the people, kindled the ardor 
of the young, and , made them zealous for the 
cause to which their elders seemed indifferent. 
They had not known the calamitous issues of so 
many similar undertakings ; it was new to them, 
and not an old, sad story. The flaming descrip- 
tions of the Holy Land, vivid references to its 
associations, the favor of God which attended 
its defenders, and the glory of fighting in its 
behalf, aroused them to become victims of a fate 
more sad than that of others who sought to free 
it, as it was more touching. 

But their adventures have been passed over 
with little notice. Amidst the din of the con- 
tending armies of Crusaders and the clash of 
steel, few have heard the footsteps and the 
songs of three armies of youthful and unarmed 
combatants, who made their little effort for the 



I O INTRO D UCTOR Y. 

holy cause. Although they did not win great 
victories or enduring renown, yet it may be 
that their story will interest us as much as that 
of the more hardy soldiers. 

We are now to collect and narrate such de- 
tails of that story as have been saved from ob- 
livion, and, as we begin, it is with regret that 
they are so few. Withdrawing our attention 
from the conflicts of princes and of Sultans, 
let us listen for a while to the part which was 
taken by the children in that weary struggle 
which has been aptly called the " World's De- 
bate." 



III. 

Contemporaneous Events. 

The thirteenth century opened in Europe 
amidst bloodshed and confusion, and over many 
lands there hung the lurid clouds of war. All 
the troubles of that troubled era were due to 
one moving spirit, who called himself the Vice- 
gerent of the Prince of Peace, but who, under 
the impulses of ambition and revenge, acted 
rather as if the Vicar of the Prince of War. 
Innocent III., surnamed "the Great," the most 
arrogant of popes, assumed the tiara in .1198, 
and soon had embroiled all Europe in conflicts 
of different kinds. 



CONTEMPORANEOUS EVENTS. II 

Passing in review the various lands, there 
comes first before us Germany, whose Em- 
peror, Otho IV., possessed a character that ren- 
dered it improbable that he could treat the 
many vexed questions of jurisdiction over the 
petty states of Italy, without clashing with so 
unyielding a rival as Innocent. New jealousies 
grew rapidly between them, besides those in- 
herited with their respective positions, until, in 
1210, the Emperor was solemnly excommuni- 
cated, and to the thunders of the Church was 
added the more serious declaration of a war 
without mercy. The Pope selected as his 
champion, young Frederick, called " of Sicily," 
son of the Emperor Henry IV., and promised 
him that, if he could wrest the crown from 
Otho, he should wear it as his own, and occupy 
the throne by whose steps he had been reared. 
Otho replied by the ban of the empire against 
the pretender, a weapon only second to excom- 
munication, and, in 121 1, there began a cruel 
war, waged with skill on either side, that ended 
in 1 2 16, when the former combatant died and 
Frederick succeeded to the sceptre, to com- 
mence his splendid reign, the most brilliant one 
of the Middle Ages. 

In England, we find John on the throne. 
He had been king since 1 199, and was a mon- 



1 2 INTRO D UCTOR Y. 

arch little inclined to bear with the pretensions 
of the Pope, but as little fitted to oppose them. 
In 1 206, the storm broke, when an issue was 
made on the appointment, by Innocent, of Ste- 
phen Langton to be Archbishop of Canterbury. 
This the King resisted, claiming that the Pri- 
mate should be chosen in England. He de- 
clared in a rage that no other should ever enter 
the country. In 1208, Innocent excommuni- 
cated him, and John was added to the motley 
list of those who have fallen under the displeas- 
ure of the Bishops of Rome, and who have been 
subjects of a document so eminently Christian 
and merciful as their ban.. The King held out 
well for a while, as the national feeling was on 
his side, but at length the suspension of all re- 
ligious rites produced their effect in the discon- 
tent of the people. When to this was added 
the preparation by Philip of France to conquer 
the land, which the Pope had given him, John 
was obliged to submit, and to consent to hold 
his realm as a vassal of Rome. 

As to France,- it was to a great extent a 
scene of combat. Philip, seeing his opportunity 
in the weakness of the King of England, re- 
splved to endeavor to expel all foreign rule 
from the land, and to put an end to the anom- 
aly of large parts of his realm being really the 



CONTEMPORANEOUS EVENTS. 13 

domains of John. He prosecuted the task with 
vigor and success, and, in the opening decade 
of the century, had regained many a prov- 
ince that had long been a jewel in the Eng- 
lish crown. 

But there were other troubles and wars than 
these. It was an era of Crusades, for no less 
than three were commanded by Innocent at 
the opening of this century. They were di- 
rected, not against dwellers in Asia or Africa, 
but against inhabitants of Europe, for now the 
name was applied to all wars in which the Pope 
was interested. Two of them were against 
heathen. In Eastern Europe there was one 
preached against the Prussians, excited chiefly 
by the monks, who found that their unbeliev- 
ing neighbors would not be converted by their 
precept or example. As there were plunder 
and the Church's blessing to be won, as well 
as the glory of doing missionary work among 
idolaters, many flocked to the standard of the 
Cross, and soon rested, either in the homes they 
conquered, or (as we are to suppose) in the 
glory which the Pope promised to those who 
should fall in the conflict. 

In the West, we find a Crusade against the 
Saracens in Spain, who had assumed so threat- 
ening an attitude as to alarm the Christians. 



1 4 INTROD UCTOR Y. 

These latter were divided among several petty 
states, which enterprising men, who had con- 
quered slices of land from the Moors, had called 
kingdoms. The various rulers, appealing to 
Christendom for aid, prepared to strike a con- 
certed blow. Innocent did all that he could for 
them. He sent letters to France, urging the 
bishops to raise soldiers for the cause, and held 
processions in Rome. A large number of 
knights crossed the Pyrenees and joined the 
army that was assembling under the King of 
Castile. After a brief campaign, on the six- 
teenth of July, 12 12, on the plains of Tolosa, the 
power of the Saracens was broken in a desper- 
ate battle. 

In a certain sense these two wars were really 
Crusades, as against the heathen, but that to 
which we now turn was a war against the 
Cross, and in no sense a Crusade. It will ever 
be accounted one of the greatest crimes upon 
the page of history and in the career of the 
Church that prosecuted it. 

It is unnecessary to detail the horrors of the 
persecution of the Albigenses. A brief state- 
ment will suffice. 

In 1 208, a Crusade was ordered against Ray- 
mond, Count of Toulouse, for venturing to pro- 
tect his subjects who rejected the yoke of 



CONTEMPORANEOUS EVENTS. 1 5 

Rome. The energy of the Pope's measures 
and the prospect of plundering for Christ's 
sake that which was then the fairest and the 
richest district of Europe, soon gathered an 
army of great size. Under the skilful leader- 
ship of Simon de Montfort, called "the General 
of the Holy Ghost," a coarse and brutal wretch, 
the Crusaders won victory after victory. Thou- 
sands were put to death. At one massacre the 
Pope's legate was asked how to tell heretic from 
catholic. He replied : " Slay all ; the Lord will 
know his own ! " It is a joy to think how true 
this was, as we read of the sufferings of these 
humble martyrs. Finally, the battle of Muret, 
in 1213, put an end to all organized resistance 
on the part of the Albigenses, and the " banner 
of the Cross " waved in victory over a devastated 
land. Their swords reeking with the blood of 
women and children, and their tents full of 
stolen riches, these exemplary followers of this 
" General of the Holy Ghost," from their orgies 
and their revels sent to the Pope the pleasant 
news that false religion and immorality had 
been extirpated. How often God reverses 
human judgments ! 

Such were the wars and transactions of the 
era in which occurred the incident that we are 
to describe. But what was the condition of the 



1 6 INTRO D UCTOR Y. 

people? Let us briefly answer this question, 
that one may know the state of the lands 
whence the children issued, and the influences 
which surrounded them in their homes. 

IV. 

The Condition of the People. 

This was such as might be expected from the 
character of the times when war and turmoil 
seemed everywhere supreme. Vast districts 
were desolated and their inhabitants sighed 
and starved, while in others, that armies had 
not ravaged, the people lived in daily dread of 
pillage. Society was disorganized, and law a 
mockery, for the peasant had from it no protec- 
tion, and the baron held it in defiance ; so that 
the former, unless some lord was interested in 
preserving him for his own plundering, was at 
the mercy of any of the fierce outlaws, who 
called themselves nobles. The only shelter for 
the lowly was the Church ; the only fields that 
were not pillaged were those her officials 
.owned. Nearly all Europe was in this con- 
dition ; the exempted regions were few, and 
most of these were only safe because too poor 
to devastate. Tormented and wearied, multi- 
tudes prayed in agony and want, for peace or 
death. 



THE CONDITION OF THE PEOPLE. 1 7 

Such a state of affairs naturally resulted in 
ignorance, as great as the prevailing poverty. 
In the midst of such distractions there was little 
chance for study, and any one who could read or 
write, unless an ecclesiastic, was regarded as a 
wizard ; while many of the clergy themselves 
would not have been able, by either test, to 
prove their position. There was not, perhaps, a 
darker era during the ages of gloom, as regards 
misery and ignorance, than this beginning of 
the thirteenth century, Life must have been a 
burden, and men little better informed than the 
brutes, with which they tilled their fields for 
precarious crops. 

As may easily be imagined, religion was at 
a low ebb, and, while armies were fighting for 
the Cross, few knew the teachings of that 
emblem. The instruction which the people 
generally received from those appointed to 
minister in holy things, was a system of absurd 
superstitions, wherein they learned of deeds of 
questionable saints and supposititious martyrs, 
and the honor due to God was rendered to a 
woman, enthroned in his place. 

To illustrate the state of affairs, and show 
the example set by the clergy in France, where 
the Children's Crusade originated, with which 
we are to be concerned, let us describe two 
customs, or ceremonies, of regular occurrence, 



1 8 INTROD UCTOR Y. 

and they will help to realize the extent of the 
prevailing ignorance concerning pure and un- 
defiled religion. The first of these was called 
the " Feast of the Fools." 2 It was observed, 
not only in Paris, but in many other parts of the 
land, in the cathedral cities. In the former 
place it occurred on the Feast of the Circum- 
cision, in others on Epiphany, and, in a few, on 
Innocents' Day ; whence it was also called the 
" Feast of the Innocents." On the appointed 
day the priests and clerks met and chose an 
archbishop and a bishop from among their 
number. They then proceeded to the cathe- 
dral, led by the mock prelates, arrayed in 
great pomp, and, after entering the edifice, be- 
gan orgies of the most sacrilegious character. 
Masked, and dressed in skins of animals, dis- 
guised as buffoons, and even in the garments of 
women, they danced and jumped about, shout- 
ing blasphemous exclamations and obscenest 
songs. They used the altar as a table, and, 
during the performance of mass by the mock 
bishops, the others ate and drank around it, 
and played with dice. Exerting all their inge- 
nuity to devise desecrations of the place, they 
burned the leather of their old sandals as in- 
cense, and crowned all by defiling the church, 
in postures and acts of unmentionable inde- 

1 Du Cange. 



THE CONDITION OF THE PEOPLE. 1 9 

cency. It seems as if this were giving vent tc 
that which they felt during the whole year, that 
religion was a fable, and their duties the acts 
of a play. Eudes de Sully endeavored to sup- 
press this sacrilege, but in vain. We find it 
still practised a century later. 

The other custom which shows the degrada- 
tion of the Church, was that called the " Feast 
of the Asses." 2 Although as general as the 
former, it was most popular in the south of 
France. The proceedings in Beauvais were as 
follows : The people and the clergy chose the 
prettiest girl of the town, and, placing a beau- 
tiful babe in her arms, mounted her on a richly 
caparisoned ass to represent Mary and the Sav- 
iour. In great state she was led from the ca- 
thedral, where the selection had been made, to 
the parish church of St. Stephen, which the 
procession entered. The maiden and child, still 
on the ass, were placed on the gospel (or north) 
side of the altar, and the mass was commenced. 
Whenever the choir ended the Introit, the Ky- 
rie, the Creed, or any other part which was 
chanted, they added a chorus, consisting of the 
sounds, " Hin-ham, Hin-ham," which were ut- 
tered so as to represent, as nearly as possible, 
the braying of the animal. ' A priest preached 
a sermon in mingled French and Latin, de- 

1 Celebrated January 14th. 



20 INT*R0D UCTOR Y. 

voted to the exposition of the good qualities of 
the ass, and at the end repeated a hymn 1 com- 

1 It being a curious relic, the entire hymn sung on this oc- 
casion is added here. It is found in Du Cange's Glossarium 
Novum, etc., where the ceremony is described. 

Orientis partibus 
Adventavit asinus 
Pulcher et fortissimus, 
Sarcinis aptissimus. 
Chorus : Hez, sire asnes, car chantez ? 

Belle bouche rechignez ? 

Vous aurez du foin assez, 

Et de l'avoine a plantez. 

Lentus erat pedibus, 
Nisi foret baculus, 
Et eum in clunibus 
Pimgeret aculeus. 
Chorus. 

Hie in collibus Sichem, 
Jam nutritus sub Ruben : 
Transiit per Jordanem, 
Saliit in Bethlehem. 
Chorus. 

Ecce magnis auribus, 
Subjugalis films, 
Asinus egregius, 
Asinorum dominus. 
Chorus. ' 

Saltu vincit hinnulos, 
Damas et capreolos ; 
Super dromedarios 
Velox Medianeos. 
Chorus. 

Aurum de Arabia, 
Thus et myrrhum de Sab*, 
Tulit in ecclesia 
Virtus asinaria. 
Chorus. 



THE CONDITION OF THE PEOPLE. 21 

posed of a barbarous mixture of the two Ian 
guages, whose every stanza was followed by a 
refrain which may be thus translated : — 

" O Sir Ass, why do you bray ? 

Why with that beautiful voice do you scold ? 
You shall soon have plenty of hay, 
And of oats, much more than can be told." 

When the whole profane farce was over, the 
officiating priest, in dismissing the congrega- 
tion, said, instead of " Ite, missa est," " Hin- 
ham ! Hin-ham ! Hin-ham ! " The people, as 
they dispersed, replied with the same sounds, 
repeated three times, instead of " Deo gratias." 

These things occurred in the most Christian 

D um trahit vehicula 
Multa cum sarcinula, 
Illius mandibula, 
Dura terit pabula. 
Chorus. 

Cum aristis hordeum 
Comedit et carduum : 
Triticum e palea, 
Segregat in areS. 
Chorus. 

Amen dicas, asine, 

(Hie genuflectebahtrl) 
Jam satur de gramme : 
Amen, Amen, itera, 
Aspernare vetera. 
C fwrus : Hez va ! hez va ! hez va hex . 
Biax sire asnes car allez ? 
Belle bouche car chantez ? 



22 . ' INTRODUCTORY. 

land of Europe, in the days of a pope who gloried 
in his zeal for Christianity, without encounter- 
ing any rebuke from king or pontiff ! What 
must have been the religious teachings of a 
clergy, so degraded, and so defiant of all things 
sacred ! What ideas must the people have had 
of the Gospel, when their guides knew so little ! 
These few facts and hints are all that can be 
given, in view of our limits, to show what were 
the times, what the state of the people, and what 
the events transpiring when, in 1212, 1 that ep- 
isode occurred, which is now to be described. 
In Spain, the armies of Christians and Moslems 
are gathering for the great battle. Frederick 
is marshalling his adherents to conquer a 
crown. The Albigenses are falling in martyr- 
dom, and John is defying the Pope. Gladly do 
we leave the transactions in the sphere of the 
rulers of earth, to follow the fortunes of a .move- 
ment among the lowly and the young. 

1 As regards the date of the Children's Crusade, there is 
some discrepancy among the chroniclers, but there is no doubt 
that it occurred in 12 12, as all contemporaries assert, 
as well as the Chron. Argent., Chron. of Laon, and Ogerius 
Panis. The variations are the following : Chron. S. life- 
dardi gives as the date, 1209 ; Thomas de Champre, 1213 ; 
John Massey, 1210. An error in the existing MSS. of Jacques 
de Vitry reads 1222 for 1212. But the authority of contempo- 
raries should be conclusive, as the historians Michaud, Heck- 
er, Wilken, and Raumer are agreed. 



CHAPTER II. 

THE RISING IN FRANCE. 



Cloyes a?id its Hero. 

Through that part of the old province of 
Orleannais which is now called the Department 
of Eure-et-Loir, and which is a vast, chalky 
plain, almost denuded of verdure, there runs 
the little river Loir, in a southerly direction, until 
it joins the beautiful Loire, which on its course 
to the sea flows past gray old cities and famous 
chateaux. About twenty miles west of Orleans 
the valley of the former river widens, and in 
this basin, between the hills, surrounded by 
smiling meadows, is the town of Cloyes, that 
has one association in a history of centuries 
to endue it with interest Although more an- 
cient than many other places in the vicinity, it 
has yet slumbered through the ages in obscu- 
rity, its cares and traditions and characteristics 
having been handed down undisturbed^ through 
generations which witnessed many changes 



24 THE RISING IN FRANCE. 

elsewhere. Recently a railway has been con- 
structed, which runs near the town, and its loud 
whistle sounds through the little streets, as 
trains pass the station on the plateau above. 

It is an ordinary French village, with its 
square market-place, where are sold wooden 
shoes, fruit, crockery, and the other miscellane- 
ous articles peculiar to such a scene ; its Maine, 
with the imperial escutcheon at present hang- 
ing where so many other similar pictures have 
swung ; its dirty shops and staring houses, and 
its dilapidated church, whose pictures and 
images might be thought to render idolatry im- 
possible, because they come up to none of the 
requisites of the second commandment in re- 
gard to resembling anything " in the heavens 
above, in the earth beneath, or in the waters 
under the earth." But still the scene before one 
is attractive, as he stands on the old stone bridge 
by which the main street crosses the Loir. 
The little river comes from behind the trees of 
the park of an old chateau, which is seen a mile 
distant. After lazily turning here and there a 
mill-wheel, when it reaches the precincts of the 
village, it passes beneath our standing-place, to 
run through the green meadows and beneath 
shady willows, until it enters the little valley, by 
which it issues from this basin, where, in some 



CLOVES AND ITS HERO. 2$ 

earlier days, it formed a lake. On the eastern 
side of us lies the village, extending about a 
thousand feet to the declivity, which forms the 
limit of the valley in that direction. On the 
other side of the river, green fields extend 
about half a mile to the base of vine-clad 
slopes. 

This bridge is a pleasant place for musing 
on a summer afternoon, and the scene recalls 
past days, for the country is full of historical 
interest. Many a knight and soldier slept here 
for the last time on the eve of the battle of 
Fretteval, where, close at hand, Philip Augustus 
was defeated by Richard Cceur de Lion, in 
1 1 94. And the people of this quiet hamlet 
were awakened by enthusiasm, as was all that 
nation, when Jeanne d'Arc passed through their 
streets on the way to seek Orleans and to win 
for herself immortal renown. 

It is in this village that our story begins. 1 
For, here, in the last years of the twelfth cen- 
tury or the first of the thirteenth, was born a 
boy who was named Stephen, probably after 

1 There are various authorities for the fact that Cloyes was 
the birthplace and home of Stephen. Among others, see the 
Chron. Anon, of Laon, which says he was "ex villa Cloies, 
juxta castrum Vidocinum." Joh. Yperius says he was from 
the diocese of Chartres. 



26 THE RISING IN FRANCE. 

the saint of his birthday, the twenty-sixth ol 
December. Had it not been for him, this place 
might never have been mentioned in history ; 
but his fame is forever linked with it, as the 
only name by which he is known is " Stephen 
of Cloyes." 

His father was a shepherd, or a poor peas- 
ant, and Cloyes was then a miserable hamlet. 
The Loir ran by it then as now, but the banks 
which it washed, instead of being highly culti- 
vated and densely peopled, were tilled to an ex- 
tent only sufficient to feed the few inhabitants, 
who, in squalor and ignorance, knew little of 
luxury or of comfort. No hard and smooth 
highway led to the neighboring cities. The 
scanty traffic and the little travel, had for their 
use a wretched and often impassable path. 

Among such circumstances Stephen passed 
his infancy and began his childhood. When old 
enough to hold a staff and chase a refractory 
lamb, he was sent to be a shepherd boy, and 
he spent the summers upon the plains around 
his home, no better and no worse than others 
who led the same life, although, as his acts sub- 
sequently proved, mature beyond his years. 

Obscurely and quietly his life glided away, 
until, in 12 12, he became, as we are to see, the 
one upon whom was centred the attention of 
France. 



CLOYES AND ITS HERO. 27 

We have already noticed the many means 
resorted to by the hierarchy to awaken the slum- 
bering interest of the people in the shattered 
cause of the Crusades. Among these were fre- 
quent processions, when every expression of 
grief and of entreaty was called into use, to 
impress upon the beholders a feeling that God 
commanded them to enlist under the again up- 
lifted banner, and to arouse either their ardor or 
their fear. 

There had long existed an ancient custom 
of the Church, observed on St. Mark's day, 
April 25th, called the " Litania Major," or 
Greater Litany. 1 It was a processional litany, 
instituted centuries before by Gregory the 
Great, during the ravages of the plague, but 
generally still maintained in Latin Christendom. 
On this day the altars were shrouded in black, 
and priests and people went through the streets 
of towns and cities, chanting prayers and carry- 
ing crosses likewise draped. From this last 
feature, the day was popularly called the " Black 
Crosses." At the time of which we are speak- 
ing, this ceremony was adapted to commemo- 
rate the sufferings of those who had died in the 
defense of the Holy Land, and to implore mercy 
in behalf of the Christians now beleaguered 

1 See among others Joinville's Memoirs of Louis IX. for de« 
scription. 



28 THE RISING IN FRANCE. 

there, as well as of the many others that were 
pining in slavery. We can well imagine that 
such an observance, accompanied by stirring 
sermons and vivid threats and promises, would 
have excited the people, especially the young, 
who had neither the experience nor the judg- 
ment requisite to discern the hopelessness of 
the Crusades, and the delusiveness of such ap- 
peals. 

Stephen had of course heard of the desper- 
ate state to which the combatants of the Cross 
were reduced, and stray pilgrims and priests 
had told to the villagers of Cloyes stories of 
adventure and of glory which could not fail to 
excite his credulous mind. But all his ardor was 
redoubled when, in the neighboring city of 
Chartres, he behejd the procession referred to 
above. x The black crosses, the loud and affect- 
ing litanies, the appeals which plead for an in- 
sulted Christ and his enslaved soldiers, the sol- 
emn ceremonials, the tears and emotions of the 
crowds, worked upon him most powerfully, and 
made him burn with desire to play a part in the 
expulsion of the hated Mohammedans from the . 
land sanctified by the life of Jesus and hallowed 
by the possession of his tomb. 

All alive with such emotions, he retraced, at 

1 Johannes Yperius. 



CLOVES AND ITS HERO. 29 

evening, his homeward steps. And as he 
mused thereafter, in his loneliness on the hill- 
side with his flocks, his imagination revelled in 
deeds of daring, and in pictures of sacred scenes, 
until he was ready for any enterprise, prepared 
to believe, with unquestioning credulity, any 
story, however wild and improbable. 

While in this excited state, there appeared to 
him, one day, a stranger, who at first said that 
he was a returned pilgrim from Palestine on his 
way to a distant home, and asked for some food. 
Stephen could refuse nothing to one who had 
been where he longed to be, and had seen places 
for whose rescue he was ready to die. He only 
asked, in return, to be told of the wonders of the 
Orient, and of the exploits of the brave heroes 
who had fallen there in battle, or who still lin- 
gered in the few remaining cities. Readily did 
the stranger comply with his request and tell 
him that which delighted his ears. Having 
thus gained an influence over the boy, he an- 
nounced himself to be Jesus Christ, and pro- 
ceeded to commission Stephen to preach a Cru- 
sade to the children, promising that, with him 
as their leader and prophet, they should win 
that victory which soldiers and nobles had failed 
to gain. He also gave the astonished youth a 
letter to the king of France, commanding that 



30 THE RISING IN FRANCE 

monarch to furnish aid to the new enterprise. 
Thereupon the pilgrim, undoubtedly a disguised 
priest, who had heard of Stephen's enthusiasm, 
and thought him a suitable instrument for the 
purpose of arousing the people, disappeared as 
mysteriously as he had come. 1 But he had 
played well his part, and rarely has a deception 
been so successful. 

After this, to be a shepherd boy was no more 
possible to Stephen. Higher duties called him, 
he said, when rushing homeward, he told of his 
interview with the Lord to his bewildered par- 
ents and neighbors, and showed his celestial 
letter to the King. There was no reasoning 

1 The Chron. Anon, of Laon relates this interview of Stephen 
with Christ, and says that he showed, without any expression 
of doubt, the letter which the Saviour gave him. I have 
adopted the explanation suggested by Sporschild and others, 
and which commends itself to reason, that Stephen was duped 
by some priest who found him ready to believe even such a 
thing, and ardent enough to assume such a charge. There 
must have been an incident of some kind to put it into the 
boy's head to undertake such a mission. Again, he certainly 
showed some letter as proof of his call, which he could never 
have written, nor any one else in Cloyes ; it was clearly the 
work of an ecclesiastic, which confirms the above theory. 
And if, in the nineteenth century, the people of France believe 
that the Virgin appeared at La Salette with a babe in her 
arms, they would much more readily have believed in the 
thirteenth century that Christ appeared in person, when it was 
to effect an end considered so intimately allied with his religion. 



CLOYES AND ITS HERO. 3 I 

with him. Carried away by high hopes and by 
the dignity of his supposed call, he entered at 
once upon his work. To all he narrated his 
story, and to the welcoming ears of his compan- 
ions he told that now, when the defenders of the 
Holy Sepulchre were few, and their ranks thin 
from the ravages of disease and war, when 
man's plans had failed, God had revealed his 
plan, which was to give the possession of Pal- 
estine to the children who should enlist. " For 
the last time have we heard of defeat," cried he ; 
" hereafter shall children show mailed warriors 
and proud barons, how invincible are youths 
when God leads them ! " 

But the field was too narrow in Cloyes. From 
a point so obscure, he could not arouse France. 
Some more central place must be sought, and 
at once he fixed upon the great shrine of the 
land, the object of countless pilgrimages, where 
to ever changing crowds, he could preach his 
Crusade and spread to homes of every district 
the intelligence of his enterprise. He resolved 
to go to St. Denys. 1 

1 Anon. Chronicle of Laon. 



3 2 THE RISING IN FRANCE. 

II. 

St. Denys. 

Five miles north of Paris is the city of St. 
Denys, the place of burial of the martyr Dio- 
nysius. He was one of the seven holy men who 
established churches in Gaul, and from whose 
labors resulted the conversion of the land. Di- 
onysius founded the Church of Paris and was 
its first Bishop. In 272, under the reign of 
Valerian, he suffered martyrdom. In the fifth 
century a church was erected over his grave, 
around which a town sprang- up, to which was 
given his name. From the time of Dagobert, 
all the kings, and many other members of the 
royal family were buried there, so that it be- 
came the central point of France and identified 
with its interests. Here, too, was kept the sa- 
cred Oriflamme, or the holy standard of the 
realm, which originally was the flag of the 
Church, but was committed to the king, as its 
guardian, when he went to fight enemies of the 
nation, and as such, was venerated by St. 
Louis and inspirited the Maid of Orleans. Its 
form was that of a triple tongued flame, in al- 
lusion to the tongues of fire that descended at 
Pentecost. Its color was, accordingly, red. 
The monks and priests who were interested 



ST. DEN VS. 33 

in rendering the place attractive, soon made it 
a centre of pilgrimage and succeeded in im- 
pressing it upon the people that great were the 
benefits of a visit to the tomb of the Saint. 
Legends without number were fabricated. He 
himself was said to be Dionysius the Areopa- 
gite, for which there was not a shadow of evi- 
dence, and a marvelous series of events were 
strung together and called his life. Of all these 
fictions, the wildest, which is still taught and 
believed, was that concerning his death. It 
was said that, after very cruel treatment, he was 
beheaded and his body thrown into the Seine, 
but that, issuing from that river, he carried his 
head in his hands for the distance of two miles, 
to the place where he desired to be interred. 1 

Of course the grave of so eminent a saint 
was soon a great resort for those who thought 
that he, who could do so much for himself, 
might do something for them. Pilgrims con- 
tinued to increase in numbers, until it became, 
like the tomb of St. James at Compostello in 
Spain, a national shrine, whither came thou- 
sands for physical relief and mental consola- 
tion ; perhaps, sometimes, for spiritual aid. 

1 It was concerning this that Ninon de l'Enclos, when 
asked if she believed: that the Saint carried his head all the 
way, said : " La distance ne vaut rien. Ce n'est que le pre- 
mier pas qui coute." 

3 



34 THE RISING IN FRANCE. 

In the commencement of the thirteenth cen- 
tury the influence of the shrine was at its 
height, for wars and Crusades could not deter 
the people from seeking it. 

To St. Denys, then, do we behold Stephen of 
Cloyes journeying in the month of May, 12 12. 
Dressed in his shepherd's attire, his crook in 
hand, and a little wallet by his side, he departed 
from the obscurity of his hfime and of his in- 
fancy. With bounding heart and exuberant 
hopes, he walked in eagerness which ignored 
fatigue. As he went, he preached his mission 
in the towns and cities by the way. But even 
Chartres and Paris could not delay him long, for 
he was in haste to reach the place which was to 
be the scene of his glorious labors. At last he 
arrived there, and everywhere, by the door of 
the church which contained the tomb, in the 
market-place, and at all hours, to astonished 
audiences, he proclaimed the new Crusade. 

Gifted with extraordinary powers of speech, 
he succeeded in enchaining the attention and 
gaining the admiring reverence of his hearers. 
To an enthusiast this was an easy task, with 
a subject so suggestive, and in such a place. 
He told the old story of the sufferings of the 
Christians in the Holy Land, and of their lan- 
guishing in slavery, and the audience seemed to 



ST. DENYS. 35 

hear the clank of their chains as the speaker 
dwelt on their cries for help. And not only 
were their breasts stirred by that appeal ; they 
also were told of the state of their brethren 
who were besieged in the few cities which they 
still held, and their hardships were a fruitful 
theme. 

But Stephen had a still more powerful argu- 
ment and a more potent appeal. He pointed 
to the sepulchre of St. Denys, thronged by its 
worshippers, and then contrasted its condition 
with that of the sepulchre of the Saviour. The 
one was guarded by believers, and the scene of 
unrestrained devotion, the other, insulted by the 
presence of infidels and receiving not a prayer 
from those who would love to worship there. 
He then asked them if .they would tolerate this, 
if they would not strive to make the Saviour's 
tomb as honored and as free from defilement, as 
the Saint's. 

He showed the letter to the king, to confirm 
the doubting, and asked if Christ's commands 
were to be disregarded. He repeated the nar- 
rative of his interview with the Lord, and, to 
add credibility to his authorization to be the 
prophet of the new Crusade, told many inci- 
dents of a supernatural kind. He said that 
when he returned from his visit to see the 



36 THE RISING IN FRANCE. 

procession held to implore God's mercy for the 
cause of the Crusades, before he had been com- 
missioned by the Lord, he went to the pasture 
grounds of his flocks and found them absent. 
After searching, he discovered them in a field 
of grain. Enraged, he began to drive them 
thence with blows, when they all fell on their 
knees and begged his forgiveness. This, with 
other signs, said he, led him to believe that 
great things were in store for him, even before 
he had been visited by Christ. 

He soon became the Saint of the day, and the 
shrine was abandoned to listen to his stirring 
words. Especially was this the case, because 
he worked miracles. It is said that he healed 
the sick, and made other supernatural signs 
bear witness to his authority. 1 They who were 
credulous enough to come to St. Denys and to 
believe the legends which made the place what 
it was, would not be apt to discredit the claims 
and the miracles of Stephen. 

But especially was enthusiasm aroused in the 
young who visited the place, or who were 
brought thither by their elders. The call of 
Stephen appealed to natural feelings, and they 
gladly believed him, when he said that for them 
was reserved all the glory of the rescue of the 
Holy Sepulchre. 

1 Vincent de Beauvais. 



ST. DENYS. 37 

Accordingly, as the pilgrims departed from 
St. Denys, they bore to their different homes 
the story of the new apostle, the successor of 
Peter the Hermit; and of Bernard. The chil- 
dren rejoiced in being* the exclusive recipients of 
God's lofty commission, and told their compan- 
ions of the eloquence and the power of Stephen. 
Alive with emulation to play a prominent part 
in the enterprise, they commenced to seek ad- 
herents. The matter spread like a contagion. 
As there were in the audiences of Stephen pil- 
grims from all parts of France, soon in every 
region of the land was his mission known, and 
children were excited to dreams of terrestrial 
fame and celestial glory. The movement be- 
gan, regardless of feuds of rulers, of difference 
of government, or of wars. It spread in Brit- 
tany, where the English ruled, as well as in 
Normandy, recently added to the domains of 
Philip ; in Aquitaine and Auvergne, likewise 
just freed from the sway of the foreigners, as well 
as in Provence, where the king of Aragon was 
sovereign ; in Toulouse, red with the blood of 
martyrs, as well as in peaceful Gascony. The 
children knew not, or cared not, what rule their 
elders acknowledged, and were not interested 
ji,the wars for power. The undercurrent of 
their life was untouched by the storms which 



38 THE RISING IN FRANCE. 

disturbed the surface. Consequently, while the 
adults were prevented from unity of action 
and from yielding to any interest in the Cru- 
sades which they may have felt, by the commo- 
tions and the political divisions of the land, the 
young were one, and, regardless of tongue or of 
state, responded to the appeal, from the Chan- 
nel or the Pyrenees, from the Rhone or the 
Loire. The voice of Stephen found everywhere 
a ready echo, and when there went among them 
those who sought to enlist adherents, they had 
an easy task. All the children united in say- 
ing exultingly, " Long enough have you, knights 
and warriors, so boastful and so honored, been 
making your fruitless attempts to rescue the 
tomb of Christ ! God can wait no longer ! 
He is tired of your vain, puny efforts ! Stand 
back and let us, whom you despise, carry out 
his commission ! He who calls can insure the 
victory, and we will show you what children 
can do ! " 



THE MINOR PROPHETS. 39 

III. 

The Minor Prophets. 

An old chronicler, while describing the 
events of these times, dwells at length upon the 
excitement caused in some parts of France by 
the frantic appeals and by the arts of the clergy, 
in their endeavors to awaken among the lower 
classes that interest in Palestine which slum- 
bered among the upper ranks of society. He 
also gives many signs which the Lord sent to 
add to the power of the emissaries of the Pope, 
and tells us many a curious and wild story in 
this connection. Among these he says that 
" it is affirmed for a certainty, that, every ten 
years, fishes, frogs, butterflies, and birds pro- 
ceeded likewise according to their kinds and 
seasons ; and at that time so great a multitude 
of fishes was caught that all men greatly won- 
dered. And certain old and decayed men af- 
firm, as a certain thing, that, from different 
parts of France, an innumerable multitude of 
dogs were gathered together, at the town of 
Champagne which is called Manshymer. But 
those dogs, having divided into two parties, and 
fighting bravely against each other, nearly all 
slew one another in the mutual slaughter and 
very few returned home." 1 Such, says he, were 

1 Chron. St Medard. 



40 THE RISING IN FRANCE. 

* 

among the wonderful incidents whicn accom- 
panied the commencement of the Children's 
Crusade, and, added to the prevalent excitement, 
made the children ready to believe that their 
call to rescue Palestine was the great event 
which those signs were intended to herald. 

As has been said, the more enterprising 
among the youths who had listened to Stephen, 
returned home, resolved to play a part in the 
coming episode of glory, only subordinate to 
" The Prophet," as he was called. Everywhere 
there arose children of ten years, and some 
even as young as eight, who claimed to be 
prophets also, sent by Stephen in the name 
of God. They went throughout their respect- 
ive districts, eagerly appealing to their com- 
panions to assume the Cross. They took as 
their text, and their authorization, the passage 
of Scripture which they interpreted to refer pe- 
culiarly to this undertaking : " Out of the 
mouths of babes and sucklings hast thou or- 
dained strength, because of thine enemies, that 
thou mightest still the enemy and the avenger." 
It would have been difficult for the adult Cru- 
saders to find a text as appropriate. 

These " minor prophets " (as the chronicles 
call them) also claimed ' to work miracles, and 
thus added to their authority and the effect of 



THE MINOR PROPHETS. 4 1 

their preaching. Among the many who thus 
took it upon themselves to extend Stephen's 
call, the names of none have been preserved, 
except one. He was an adult, and, had he not 
risen to prominence on another occasion, his 
name would also have been forgotten. It was 
Jacob of Hungary, whose strange life, one of 
the strangest on record, will be traced at an- 
other time. In this movement he was active, 
and was instrumental in arousing the north- 
eastern part of France. The names and the 
careers of the many who made the mountains 
and valleys of the land echo with their dis- 
courses and their delusive promises, are lost in 
oblivion. 

When they had gathered sufficient numbers, 
they formed them into regular and solemn pro- 
cessions and marched through the towns and 
villages with circumstances of display, in order 
to gain more recruits. Of course, in different 
districts, there was variety in their arrangements, 
and the details differed. 1 But, as a general, 
thing, there was, at the head of each proces- 
sion, a chosen youth, who bore the Oriflamme, a 
copy of that at St. Denys, and which was, like 
the colors of a regiment, an object of devotion, 
the symbol of honor. Many carried wax can- 

1 Chron. Rotom. and Chron. Mortui Maris. 



42 THE RISING IN FRANCE. 

dies, some waved perfumed censers, while here 
and there- were to be seen crosses borne aloft. 

And as they marched they sang hymns, 
many of which were the creation of their fevered 
minds. Some were, however, ancient, having 
been used in the previous Crusades, and having 
awakened the enthusiasm of thousands who 
slept on alien soil. But, in all the songs, the 
constant theme was that expressed in the fre- 
quently repeated refrains : " Lord restore Chris- 
tendom ! " " Lord, restore to us the true and 
holy Cross ! " 1 They adopted the watchword 
which for two centuries had rung through 
Europe, and had been sounded on a hundred 
battle-fields in Asia, which had spurred to ac- 
tion many a victorious, as well as many a van- 
quished army, and which now brings before us, 
as we hear it, the whole drama of the Crusades. 
Crying " Dieu le volt ! " these children threw 
aside all other obedience, 2 and considered that 
they acted under a higher than human law. 

The excitement was not confined to the chil- 
dren of any particular class or rank. As would 
be expected, the greater number were of the 
peasant order, or, as one chronicler says in 
in general terms, " they were all shepherds." a 

1 Roger de Wendover. 

2 Godfrey ; Chron, St. Medard; Chron. Raineri. 

3 Godfrey the monk. 



THE MINOR PROPHETS. 43 

The ignorance of the world which resulted from 
their seclusion, rendered these peculiarly liable 
10 deception. They who had never passed 
the precincts of their parishes or cantons, knew 
nothing of the hardships of war, the extent of 
this world and the distance to Palestine, nor of 
the stern realities which were concealed by the 
glory and the glitter of the Crusades. 

But we are also told that many noble youths, 
sons of counts and barons, joined the proces- 
sions which they saw marching past their cas- 
tellated homes. There were peculiar reasons 
why they were susceptible to the appeals of the 
prophets, and were seized with desire to take 
part in the enterprise. They had, from their 
birth, associated with the knights and warriors 
who had won fame and honor in the Crusades. 
They had heard for years, as familiar themes of 
conversation, of the brilliant deeds of brave 
men, who themselves often narrated to them 
their feats at Ascalon or at Tiberias. They 
had also heard recalled most tenderly, as ob- ' 
jects of envy, those who had fallen in the 
sacred cause. Accounts of the beauty of the 
East and of the richness of its scenes, descrip- 
tions of Jerusalem and of the Sepulchre, had 
they again and again listened to, from those 
who had been in those wonderful places. It 



44 THE RISING IN FRANCE. 

was unavoidable that influences such as these 
should have a mighty effect upon the young. It 
was natural that they would think and dream 
of the time when they might go in gorgeous 
armor, on prancing chargers, so to act, that 
they too might be spoken of as were the many 
whose names were the household words of 
chivalry. 

Again, there were those who had lost their 
fathers in the wars for the Cross, and they saw 
on the wall the sword and shield which re- 
minded them that they were heirs of a noble 
fame. It would have been strange if such 
children were not fond of reveries and antici- 
pations of glorious deeds in the same cause. 
Many had resolved that one day they would 
take those honored weapons, and, seeking the 
land hallowed by deathless memories, would 
complete the work of their sires, or else sleep 
by their side in the same consecrated earth. 

Consequently, when such youths heard of 
the armies of children assembling at the sum- 
mons of Christ to rescue Palestine, they felt 
that the time had come for the realization of 
their cherished dream. 1 And when from the 
hills whereon stood their homes, they saw the 
processions pass with uplifted crosses and with 
banners waved by the breeze which bore to 

1 Lambert of Liege. 



THE MINOR PROPHETS. 45 

their ears inspiriting songs of triumph, they 
could not stay, but hurried to join the throng, 
and either to assume positions as leaders, or as 
willingly to obey the orders of some once de- 
spised peasant. And so it happened that in 
the bands hurrying to Stephen, was represented 
many a name that had been honored in the 
hosts of Godfrey and of Guiscard, of Louis VII. 
and of Thibaut. 

Of course, the motives which led the young 
to join in these processions were not always the 
purest or the most religious. Many gladly em- 
braced the opportunity to escape from the re- 
straints of home, and to secure freedom for their 
evil tempers and desires. To them this was 
not the golden chance to deliver the sepulchre 
of Christ ; they cared not for its honor or for 
the sufferings of its champions, it was only the 
golden chance to gain a dreamed-of liberty from 
parental rule. 

But we may not deny that the mass were 
stirred by feelings of a pious nature. To those in 
the tender years of childhood it was a touching 
tale, that of the grave of Jesus in the hands, of 
heathen, and the recital of the sufferings en- 
dured in its behalf could not fail to impress 
them most strongly. All, therefore, who had 
any piety were as ready for this summons as 



4^ THE RISING IN FRANCE. 

tow for the spark, when urged to join in thia 
new Crusade, which was to be triumphant and 
bloodless, Christ himself having appeared and 
promised victory. 

But we are told that many girls also joined 
the companies which traversed the land. Some 
statements seem to indicate that quite a large 
proportion were of this sex. 1 The same reasons 
which prompted many of the boys, would in- 
fluence them, and both inability to repel them 
and willingness to have their numbers as great 
as possible, would induce the leaders to tolerate 
and encourage their accession. 

And thus from their thousand homes they 
came, when in the market-places, at the cross- 
roads, by the way-side, the youthful prophets 
preached their mission, and pictured the glory 
of the cause as well as the certainty of its suc- 
cess. From the battlemented castle on the 
mountain, from the cheerless houses of the town 
beneath, and from the miserable mud hovels 
of the hamlet in the fields, rushed the deluded 
children to swell the ranks of an army, from 
whose weary march few would return again to 
their homes. 

But the excitement was not confined to the 
children. Men and women joined the assem- 

1 Rainer's Chronicle. 



THE MINOR PROPHETS. 47 

bling bands in no small numbers, prompted 
by a desire to rescue the Holy Land. They 
thought this appeal stronger than any other 
which had been made, and, while they were 
indifferent to the summons of priests, they list- 
ened eagerly to the call of the young prophets, 
thinking that they thus embarked upon a Cru- 
sade which had greater hopes and was to share 
a different fate from those whose disasters had 
desolated Europe. Even old age did not stand 
entirely aloof. Men of gray hairs and of totter- 
ing steps were seized with the contagion, and, 
in their second childhood, imitated the ardor 
and credulity of that which had long since 
passed away. 1 

But many other men and women joined the 
armies from motives of a baser nature. All 
that were depraved in every sense found this 
a rare chance for profit. Abandoned women 
flocked in numbers in the expectation of fulfill- 
ing their infamous plans and of robbing as well 
as of ruining the youths. Thieves and sharp- 
ers never had such easy prey, and they did not 
neglect it. Every one whose disposition would 
lead them to consider this an occasion for gain 
or plunder, hurried to the rendezvous. Conse- 
quently there were introduced into the assem- 

1 Chron. Dead Sea ; Rainer. 



48 THE RISING IN FRANCE. 

bling troops of pilgrims, elements which would 
necessarily work their demoralization, and we 
are not surprised when we find that that re- 
sult ensued. 

One may now see how motley was the com- 
position of the numbers which the subordinates 
of Stephen gathered and led to him. Thus can 
we imagine the appearance of the bands which 
journeyed through the various districts, contain- 
ing boys and girls, nobles and peasants, old and 
young, men and women, pious dupes and crafty 
thieves, praying pilgrims and vilest wretches. 



IV. 

Opposition and its Results. 

It was not to be expected that such a move- 
ment could continue long without attracting 
the notice of the government. The king at 
this time was Philip Augustus, an unprincipled 
man and treacherous toward foreign nations, 
but generally an able and a wise ruler of his 
own. His policy of deceitfulness, although, he 
justified this on the plea of regaining his rights, 
resulted in the elevation of France, which at his 
death was united and strong. 

When he first heard of the rising of the chil- 
dren, he seemed inclined to favor it, probably 



OPPOSITION AND ITS RESULTS. 49 

hoping that it might result in the arousing of 
the people to enlist in the Crusade and so 
enable him to obey the Pope, whom he was 
desirous to please that he might humiliate John 
of England, while, at the same time, it would 
save him the trouble of collecting an army for 
the purpose. 

But the matter soon grew serious, and his 
counsellors urged upon him that it was no tem- 
porary delusion of limited extent, but that the 
interests of the realm demanded its suppres- 
sion, for not only would it carry away the youth 
to destruction, but it would also produce con- 
fusion, disorder, and pillage. As Philip was 
endeavoring to reorganize and consolidate his 
kingdom, these representations succeeded in 
making him direct his attention to the move- 
ment. Yet it was a delicate thing to under- 
take to suppress a Crusade, although an affair 
of children. It might be really ordered by God, 
he reasoned, and the Pope might also take it 
urider his protection and forbid all restraints 
upon it. It was a perplexing question, and 
therefore he referred it to the newly established 
University of Paris, that their wisdom might 
guide him. 

After a consultation, in which they had to 
meet the fact that they might be accused of 

4 



50 THE RISING IN FRANCE. 

heresy, and where, in such an age of supersti- 
tion, the natural advice would have been that 
given by Gamaliel to the Sanhedrim, the doc- 
tors gave the sensible reply that the movement 
should be stopped, and, if needful, vigorous 
measures should be used. Accordingly the 
King issued an edict, commanding the children 
to return to their homes and abandon the mad 
enterprise. Whether he had received the letter 
which Stephen showed, we are not told. If he 
had, he doubtless gave little heed to its alleged 
authorship, as from the Saviour. 

But his decree had little effect. The matter 
had gone too far to be arrested by a command. 
Few could be found who wished, or who dared 
to enforce it, and it was unnoticed, except by 
thoSe who were influenced to obey it, or by 
others who were glad to have an excuse for 
leaving the assembling bands, being already 
homesick and weary. 1 

The King does not seem to have concerned 
himself any further about the affair, but \y L nis 
many cares suffered his edict to remain'* un- 
enforced. It may be that he was unable to 
carry it out, from want of instruments or from 
fear of the people. At any rate, the children 
continued to assemble unimpeded. 

1 Concerning the King's conduct, see, among others, C/iron. 
of Laon. 



OPPOSITION AND ITS RESULTS. 5 I 

There were naturally other influences brought 
to bear upon the young to restrain them. Par- 
ents who had not been carried away by the 
frenzy, did not like to see their sons and 
daughters running to unknown dangers and 
hardships. Their reason as well as their affec- 
tion moved them to interfere. Yet persuasions, 
threats, and punishments were all as vain as 
had been the King's command. Bolts and 
bars could not hold the children. If shut up, 
they broke through doors 'and windows, and 
rushed, deaf to appeals of mothers and fathers, 
to take their places in the processions, which 
they saw passing by, whose crosses and ban- 
ners, whose censers, songs, and shouts, and 
paraphernalia seemed, like the winds of torrid 
climates, to bear resistless infection. If the chil- 
dren were forcibly held and confined, so that es- 
cape was impossible, they wept and mourned, 
and at last pined, as if the receding sounds 
carried away their hearts and their strength. It 
was necessary to release them, and saddened 
parents saw them exultingly depart, forgetting to 
say farewell. Regardless of the severance of 
lender ties, they ran to enlist in those deluded 
throngs that knew not whither they went. 1 

Opposition was also made by the faithful 

1 Roger de Wendover and Rainer. 



5 2 THE RISING IN FRANCE. 

among the clergy. Knowing the certain issue 
of the scheme, and -having hearts unwilling 
to see the young overcome by inevitable dis- 
asters, they endeavored to check the excitement. 
But their efforts were also vain, for opposed to 
them were others, the crafty and unprincipled 
priests, and the emissaries of the Pope, who re- 
joiced in the affair, because it was a means 
to excite the adults. Accordingly the cry of 
heresy was raised if any pious pastor used en- 
treaty or earnest warning, and he was accused 
of frustrating a holy cause. The people who 
believed in the delusion caught up the cry, and 
children adopted it, until opposition was si- 
lenced. In this way, between the designs of 
those who were to gain by the movement, the 
superstition of the masses, and the enthusiasm 
of the children, there was enough to overcome 
all efforts to arrest the daily spreading agita- 
tion. 

The serious and right-minded among the 
people were at a loss to understand so unpre- 
cedented a phenomenon, and endeavored to 
account for it in various ways. The generally 
received belief was that it was the result of 
magic, the devil's agency, the cause assigned 
for all remarkable and inexplicable events in 
these ages. To this did the University of 



OPPOSITION AND ITS PES if ITS. 53 

Paris attribute it, and more than one chronicler 
quietly says, as a matter beyond question, that 
Satan was the author and guide of the affair. 

But among the many stories invented to ac- 
count for the event, is one that, although beyond 
all probability, yet is so strange that it deserves 
a passing notice, illustrating, as it does, the 
sentiment of the times. 

It is said by one chronicler, who believed 
it, that many held that the " old man of the 
mountain" had liberated two enslaved clerks, 
and sent them to France to bring back an army 
of children, as the price of their liberty, and 
that these had originated the present under- 
taking. 

That mysterious personage was the chief of 
the Assassins, who dwelt in an impregnable 
castle on a mountain in Syria. This sect of Mo- 
hammedans flourished but a short time, yet they 
were the terror of the world, on account of their 
wonderful devotion to their master, who hired 
them out to those desiring their services, and, 
in the execution of whose orders, treachery was 
praiseworthy, danger was despised, and slaugh- 
ter their habitual practice. The stealth iness 
and secrecy of their proceedings, and their 
remorseless thirst for blood, has caused their 
name to be adopted as the appellation of delib- 



54 THE RISING IN FRANCE. 

erate murderers. In order to secure such ser- 
vants, who were called Arsacidcz, the chief 
trained them from infancy, by an education 
wherein every emotion of a tender nature was 
stifled, and fear of disgrace and of death obliter- 
ated. For such purposes, was it said, did he 
wish some children of France, and the hosts 
which were assembling were to be his prey. 
The horror in which the people stood of this 
man, led them to believe the story. It is curi- 
ous, and awakens memories of our own days of 
childish credulity, to find that the reigning ".old 
man of the mountain" at this time, was the 
famous Aladdin, the story of whose wonderful 
lamp is told in the " Arabian Nights." x 

Still the movement went on, reproved by a 
few, applauded by many ; variously regarded 
as the work of God or of Satan. Through the 
cities and hamlets, by the Seine and the Ga- 
ronne, were seen the bands, marching with their 
banners, singing their songs, and telling how 
they were " going to God and to get the Cross 
in Holy Palestine." 

As they passed by, the laborers left the fields 
and the artisans the shops ; all business was 
suspended, and they who did not join their 

1 Vincent de Beauvais explains the movement in this way,, 
and Jourdain thinks it not improbable. 



I 



OPPOSITION AND ITS RESULTS. 55 

numbers, crowded to see them, in curiosity or 
in admiration. They were housed and fed for 
nought. Many gave this aid from kindness, 
others from sympathy in the enterprise, while 
few dared deny to such numbers any request 
which they might make. And so, before long, 
the various prophets could send word to Ste- 
phen that they would bring a vast army for him 
to command and to lead. 

But, as the nature of the narrative requires 
that we follow the order of time, we now leave 
France in the ferment of the gathering, and 
turn to describe events which transpired in 
Germany. These we will trace to their end, 
and then return to Stephen and his followers. 



CHAPTER III. 

THE GATHERING OF THE GERMAN CHILDREN. 

The tidings of the preaching of Stephen and 
of his celestial mission were quickly carried east- 
ward, and pilgrims returning from St. Denys 
told of him in Burgundy and Champagne, 
whence the story spread to the lands along the 
Rhine. The people here had been subject to 
the same attempts to arouse them to interest 
in the Crusades which the French had experi- 
enced, and were as ready for the new delu- 
sion when it came, thanks to the activity of 
the papal emissaries with their litanies and 
their addresses. 

In a village near Cologne, whose name has 
not been recorded, there lived a boy who was 
to be the apostle of this Crusade in Germany, 
and play the part which Stephen acted in 
France. He was born in about the year 1200, 1 
and had been familiar with the prevailing ex- 
citement from his infancy, so that now he was 

1 Sicardi says he was "a boy less than ten years old." 



GATHERING OF GERMAN CHILDREN 57 

full of interest in the Crusades, and at once was 
seized with a desire to emulate the young 
prophet of Cloyes, when the fame of this latter 
reached his ears. 

Nicholas, for we know no other name, is 
said to have been induced to assume the part 
of a prophet to preach the new Crusade by the 
influence of his father. It was not now a crafty 
priest, but a parent, who, knowing the precocity 
and the zeal of his son, saw that he would be a 
proper one to imitate the example of Stephen, 
and worked upon his young mind until the 
boy believed himself called by God to the task. 
The motive which influenced the father may 
have been a desire to see his child famous and 
great, that he might enjoy the reflected honor ; 
or it may have been desire to profit by the 
event, and to rob the deluded victims of his 
work. This latter prompting is the one that 
was ascribed to him by the people, for the old 
monk who saw ail the progress of the affair, 
tells us that he was " a very wicked man ; " and 
the people of the region have left on record 
their opinion of his character in the summary 
vengeance that they meted out to him when 
the results of his work were apparent, as we will 
see at the close of the story. 

Probably directed by his father, Nicholas 



58 GATHERING OF GERMAN CHILDREN. 

went to Cologne, and there preached his mis- 
sion. There were the same reasons to rec- 
ommend it as a suitable place for the purpose, 
which made St. Denys such for Stephen ; it was 
a great national shrine. 

Old Golonia had long been a great and in- 
fluential city, but it rose into new prominence 
when, in 1162, it became the religious centre 
of Germany. At that time its archbishop, Ray- 
nuldus, brought back as his share of the plunder 
from his clerical foray with Barbarossa to sack 
Milan, among other articles not mentioned, the 
bones of the " Three Kings of the East." The 
legend of these who came " with a great multi- 
tude of camels to worshippe Christ, then a little 
childe of thirteen dayes olde," is one of the most 
noted of the mediaeval myths. The history of 
these particular bones, whether those of the 
Magi or not, begins with their removal to Con- 
stantinople by Helena, who discovered so many 
valuable relics of a sacred nature. The emperor 
Eustorgius took them from their shrine in Santa 
Sophia, and gave them to the archbishop of Mi- 
lan, from whence Raynuldus carried them to his 
city in patriotic zeal. For a while they reposed 
in a splendid shrine in the cathedral which 
Charlemagne had built, until the present grand 
edifice was constructed, where they still re- 



GATHERING OF GERMAN CHILDREN 59 

main. From the very first there was great de- 
votion paid to them, and the revered skele- 
tons * listened as patiently to the supplications 
addressed by the Germans, as they had to those 
which they had heard in Italy or Byzantium, 
yielding as ready attention, in a forgiving spirit, 
to those who had gained possession of them by 
war and robbery, as they had to those to whom 
they had been presented as gifts. Rightly or 
wrongly won, relics always hear the prayers of 
their de facto owners. This is a curious fact 
connected with them. 

In their common interest in this sacred 
place, the adherents of Otho and of Frederick 
forgot their feuds and quarrels, so that it was 
never more frequented than now, when Nicho- 
las went thither to proclakn his call to the great 
work of rescuing Palestine by children. 

What we know of his labors there is told us 
by Godfrey, an eye-witness, the compiler of a 
chronicle of that city. He was a monk, one of 
those who passed their lives in quiet cloisters, 
noting down events which transpired around 
them, illuminating missals, and praying venera- 
ble prayers. 

According to his aggravatingly short record, 

1 It was discovered by some skeptical Frenchman, during 
the wars of the first Republic, that one skull is that of a child, 
having milk teeth. 



60 GATHERING OF GERMAN CHILDREN. 

Nicholas came to Cologne and at once began 
to preach. He had, as had his French brother, 
a story to tell of a supernaturally received 
charge, which was readily believed, as a confir- 
mation of his claims on their attention. He 
said that, as he was tending his flocks in the 
field, he saw a cross of blazing light in the sky, 
and heard a voice which told him that it was 
the pledge of his success in the holy war. His 
father had probably heard of the history of 
Constantine, or it was related to him by some 
priest who had found him a credulous tool. 

Through the throngs that filled the city he 
moved, telling what he was to do, or preach- 
ing from elevated stations to the gaping pil- 
grims, who, having swallowed the story of the 
bones, were ready f^r his lesser fable. The 
people and the children had been familiar with 
the incendiary labors of the envoys of Inno- 
cent, and the latter were as excited as those 
of France by the scenes which appealed to 
their ignorant and unreasoning minds. He 
therefore found the way paved for his success. 
The scene was still more suggestive and appro- 
priate for the theme than even St. Denys had 
been. He could point to the shrine of the Wise 
Men, glittering with gold and jewels, and sur- 
rounded by precious votive offerings of undis* 



GATHERING OF GERMAN CHILDREN 6 1 

turbed pilgrims, and comparing this with the 
state of the sepulchre of that One, to their con- 
nection with whose history these men owed all 
then: fame, ask if the children he saw, as well as 
the adults, were not as ready as those of France 
to endeavor to rescue the holier tomb from its 
ignominy, under the guidance of him whom 
the Lord had chosen to lead his servants 
thither. 

We can imagine the scene presented during 
these days of the spring of 12 12, when Nich- 
olas was gathering his followers and pleading 
his claims. We can see him by the door of 
the old Byzantine cathedral, which disappeared 
soon after that date, standing on a platform or 
on a pile of stones, addressing the crowds in 
motley attire who came to worship, and whose 
many quaint dialects and curious dresses repre- 
sented the different regions whence they had 
journeyed. They listened eagerly as he spoke, 
and discussed among themselves the new won- 
der. What stories were related of similar prod- 
igies which had been the theme of local pride 
in many a remote village ! What debates as 
to the probabilities of the success of this new 
prophet ! What expressions of hope that this 
might solve the mystery which hung over the 
fate of many friends who had been hurried away 



62 GATHERING OF GERMAN CHILDREN. 

to the wars at the command of the baron who 
was their lord ! What eager thanks to God for 
his interference to end the cruel and hopeless 
struggle for the holy places ! Thus can we fancy 
the manifestation of the interest of the throngs 
that our little boy, so precocious and enthu- 
siastic, addressed. Among them we see old 
Godfrey moving, in his brown robe and sandals. 
He has come out to see how this restless, tur- 
bulent world is getting on, whose turmoil does 
not reach the seclusion and stagnation of the 
cloisters of St. Pantaleon, and is noting down 
in his mind the strange things he sees, that 
he may return to muse in his cell, or beneath 
some tree in the slumberous garden of the con- 
vent, upon the follies of men. At evening he will 
record, in his precious manuscript, along with 
the events of greater interest pertaining to the 
history of his peaceful asylurp, what he deems 
worthy of mention among mundane affairs. 

The oblivion which covers all these busy 
scenes is well represented by the change that 
has come over the shrine of the Wise Men, 
which is edifying to the traveller who visits 
Cologne to-day. A century or more ago, the 
snrine — a golden box of great value which 
contains the bones — was removed from the 
chief place in the cathedral to the eastern end, 



GATHERING OF GERMAN CHILDREN. 63 

where, though more confined, there was room 
enough for the devotees who came in vastly di- 
minished numbers to worship where hosts had 
once knelt. But as the " ages of faith " became 
more and more remote, the numbers lessened. 
The days of pilgrimage were ended, save for 
a few stragglers that still lingered in the rear of 
the vanished crowds. Fewer and fewer they 
became, until one day the last faithful, credu- 
lous soul, whom we would love if we knew him, 
knelt alone, solitarily told his beads in lowest 
murmur, asked some petition which came from 
a heavy heart, then rose and went away, utter- 
ing an " Amen " that closed the prolonged 
prayer of centuries. 

The officials of the cathedral, wisely judging 
that the space might be better appropriated, and 
the remains be so arranged that the pilgrimages 
of curiosity, which took the place of those of 
piety, might be made profitable, moved the 
bones to a corner, where they are kept in a 
room, to which admittance is gained, not by a 
prayer, but by a thaler. The writer not long 
ago examined the gorgeous casket in company 
with a number of nineteenth-century priests, 
who calmly and curiously talked of its carvings 
and adornments, and, without a genuflection, 
looked at the smooth skulls which the attend- 
ant exposed by opening a sliding panel. 



64 GATHERING OF GERMAN CHILDREN 

But let us come back to Nicholas and other 
days. From Cologne the excitement spread, 
as from St. Denys, by means of those who 
sought their different homes. The extent of 
country, however, in which the children rose, 
was limited, owing to the prevailing dissensions 
of a civil nature, and because the Emperor 
found it a part of his policy to suppress the 
matter where he could, and thus thwart the 
Pope, as well as retain his people for his armies. 
Yet, within the limits of the vicinity of the 
Rhine and the neighboring land of Burgundy, 
the commotion was greater than in France, as 
is shown by the proportionately greater num- 
ber that flocked to the Crusade. 

Nicholas was aided by other youths, who 
acted as lieutenants, and labored to gather ad- 
herents in their various districts, hoping to 
hold positions of rank. Of their names we 
have none preserved ; so many other and higher 
sounding ones occupied the pens of the chroni- 
clers that these were overlooked. 

Very noticeable is one feature of the appeals 
which Nicholas and his assistants used. The 
triumph promised and expected was one of 
peace. The Holy Land was not to be won by 
battle nor restored to the Christian king by the 
slaughter of the Mohammedans, but the latter 



GATHERING OF GERMAN CHILDREN. 65 

to be converted, and to accept, as believing sub- 
jects, the rule of the faith they had hated. In 
strange and touching contrast does this spirit 
stand out among the cruel and bloody memo- 
ries of the time. It awakens a peculiar interest 
to read that when they marched from place to 
place, gathering adherents, their watch-word 
was one so different from the barbarous and 
ruthless mottoes which expressed the temper of 
Crusaders, for they sang, " We go to get the 
cross beyond the sea, and to baptize the Moslem 
infidels ! " l 

The excitement spread rapidly from town to 
town and from village to village, so that the 
bands which the "minor prophets" collected 
were rapidly recruited, and successively led to 
the rendezvous at Cologne. The mania in- 
creased daily and overcame opposition. For 
opposition was made to those who would follow 
the young preachers, but with the same results 
as in France. Parents, friends, and pastors 
sought to restrain them by force or appeal, but 
they whose hearts were set upon the enter- 
prise mourned and pined so, that we are told 
their lives were frequently endangered as .by 
disease, and it was necessary to allow them to 
depart. Many hoped that at last, at Cologne, 

1 Gcst. Trcz'irorum ; Godfrey and others. 
5 



66 GATHERING OF GERMAN CHILDREN 

the delusion would end, and various causes dis- 
perse the assemblage. 

The composition of the gathering bands 
was as motley as that of the companies that 
were collected for Stephen, — probably more so. 
There were numbers of unprincipled creatures 
that joined the ranks, led by various base mo- 
tives, to gratify their propensity to thieving or 
to lust, and all the refuse of the region seems to 
have been drained, as we would naturally ex- 
pect. It was an opportunity for such persons 
that was too good and too rare to be lost, and 
it was not lost. The number of depraved 
women that mingled with the armies was, it is 
told us, especially great, and to them* is attrib- 
uted the greater part of the evils which ensued. 
The chroniclers refer frequently to them, and 
present a dark picture of the morals of the 
time. 1 We can well imagine how the. people 
dreaded the approach of these bands. They 
not only feared lest their young would be car- 
ried away by the infection, which no authority 
or ties could overcome, but because with them 
came such a lawless, demoralizing rabble, that 
would steal and rob with impunity. 

Nevertheless, the vast majority were prompt- 

1 Jac. de Voragine says : " Multi autem inter eos erant filii 
nobilium, quos ipsi etiam cum meretricibus destinarant." 



GATHERING OF GERMAN CHILDREN 6? 

ed by good, though mistaken motives. There 
were many reasons which would lead multi- 
tudes to a sincere desire to liberate the sepul- 
chre of the Saviour, and purify his tomb from 
pagan control, and such as these were ready to 
undertake and to endure anything in order to 
promote that end. This swayed, undoubtedly, 
the mass of those children who persisted in the 
enterprise, while of course some were ruled by 
ambition or by desire for independence of the 
restraints of home. 

With regard to the station of those who were 
gathered in the movement, there was great 
variety, all ranks being represented, led by 
promptings which appealed to each. There 
was a larger proportion of children of noble 
birth than was the case in France. Germany 
was always more alive to chivalrous excitement, 
and her nobility were more numerous. The 
country, particularly along the romantic Rhine, 
was studded with baronial halls, which were 
nurseries of daring and of knightly feeling. All 
the influences which would act on children of 
the lords to embark in this Crusade were thus 
especially potent, and there were more boys 
here than in France ready to go and combat 
the cruel Saracens, because a father or a brother 
had fallen at their hands. Thus the excitement 



68 GATHERING OF GERMAN CHILDREN. 

ran through the upper class, and Cologne, the 
home of many noble families, because a large 
and imperial city, is said to have lost so many 
children of rank, and to have furnished so many 
scions on whom fair hopes were placed, that 
the effects of the movement were felt for a long 
time after it had died away. 

As to age, there were very many adults in 
the assembling crowds, as we gather from va- 
rious statements of the chroniclers, and not only 
of those who joined them from lower motives, 
but many such were seized with the crusading 
spirit. They had become weary of the vain 
attempts to succeed in this terrible war, which 
had been made in the usual way ; and this new 
plan at once was regarded by them as that de- 
vised by God, and destined to triumph, where, 
very evidently, ordinary warfare was not to 
achieve the result. 

We are told, as an interesting feature, which 
shows that some attempt was made at disci- 
pline, that a uniform was generally adopted. 1 
It was an adaptation of the usual costume of pil- 
grims. They assumed a long coat, when pos- 
sible, of a gray color, and upon the breast was 
sewn a cross, as customary with the Crusaders ; 
for they claimed this character as well as that 

1 Jac. de Voragine. 



GATHERING OF GERMAN CHILDREN. 69 

of pilgrims. This latter aspect was further en- 
hanced by the carrying of a palmer's staff, and 
on their heads they wore broad-brimmed hats. 
There were many who but partially, if at all, 
adopted this costume, because they would not 
or could not procure it. Such a simple and 
quaint attire must have made a pleasing effect 
when a group marched by. 

In this way was the region around Cologne 
kept in a state of ferment, as the bands con- 
tinued to arrive at this central point, where 
Nicholas awaited them, until the time came for 
their departure for the Holy Land. Little over 
a month could have elapsed before the assem- 
bling was completed, and the various leaders 
had their recruits ready for the start, whether 
in the always crowded city, now doubly full, or 
in the towns and villages around. The great- 
ness of the numbers collected in this brief 
period shows the enthusiasm of the movement. 
That it must have been so brief, is seen from 
the facts that Stephen began his work in the 
Spring, then the tidings spread to the Rhine ; 
after this the gathering took place here, and 
these children marched to the Mediterranean, 
yet they reached that sea before the middle of 
August. 

We now proceed to the next step in the 



70 GATHERING OF GERMAN CHILDREN 

prosecution of the Crusade, or pilgrimage. But 
here our narrative divides, for there was a divis- 
ion of the host assembled at Cologne, into two 
armies. The fate of that which started under 
the leadership of Nicholas will be first traced, 
and afterwards we will return to the fortunes 
of the other. 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE ARMY OF NICHOLAS. 



To the Alps. 

One fair morning of June or July, in the year 
of grace 12 12, our friend Godfrey, monk of St. 
Pantaleon, probably saw a strange scene, to 
which we have now come in the course of this 
narrative. Let us follow him out of the city, 
and witness with him what he beheld as the 
sun was gilding the towers of the churches, 
and still casting the long, westward-stretching 
shadows of early morning. Or, better, let us 
take our place on the walls, where we may 
stand, surrounded by eager crowds, and over- 
look the spectacle. 

Upon the plain before us is a dense, waving 
concourse of people, who issue from streets and 
lanes by the open gates, or who come from 
neighboring villages by paths and roads bor- 
dered by hedges still glistening with the dew. 
All ages and both sexes are represented, and 



72 THE ARMY OF NICHOLAS. 

all are intent upon some important matter, as 
their motions and their murmurs tell. In the 
mingled sounds which come to us, we perceive 
at times the refrain of a song, or the noise of 
altercation, while we hear also the lamentations 
of others, whose gestures express great sorrow. 
As we watch the scene, a discrimination is in 
progress, and many join the forming ranks of 
an army, whose insignia and banners become 
visible in regular array. At length all is ready. 
Nicholas takes his place as leader, and at a 
given signal the compact mass moves away, still 
followed by friends who would not cease to seek 
to arrest their beloved ones, and by the amazed 
eyes of the throngs upon the walls. Vain had 
been the efforts to stop the enterprise by par- 
ents, priests, and rulers. Too confident to be 
dissuaded, too reliant on their numbers to be 
intimidated, too elated to be discouraged, this 
band of twenty thousand children 1 commenced 
its march toward Palestine. We watch them 
from our station, as they recede, until, behind 
some hill, the procession disappears, and the 
sound of their songs and their shouts sinks into 
silence in the distance. 

Their route lay along the Rhine. This region 
was not then, as now, densely peopled and ren- 

1 Fasciculi is Temporutn. 



TO THE ALPS. 73 

dered romantic by frequent, picturesque ruins. 
It was almost a wilderness then, with an occa- 
sional castle rising from lofty crags that bear at 
present but a shattered tower or crumbling 
walls. Upon the lordly Drachenfels, which 
stands as a sentinel at the portal of the valley of 
the Rhine, was the home of a wild Baron, whose 
relics are now the peaceful loitering place of 
the tourist ; and, as he saw the children wind 
across the fields, beyond the river, there arose 
in his mind pleasant thoughts of plunder. It 
was a subject of congratulation to the latter, 
that the Rhine rolled between them and those 
grim walls. At Roland seek was Roland's 
Tower, which then, as now, looked down upon 
Nonnenwerth's beautiful green isle, cradled in 
the river. Gutenfels and Stahleck were the 
homes of rough men and fair women, to whom 
the lapse of centuries has given associations 
which are very poetical, but who found their 
daily life as real and as prosaic as we find our 
own. Rheinstein, from its vine-clad height, 
frowned down upon the winding river which soon 
disappeared in a gorge, where the superstitious 
boatman saw in every nook and crevice an abode 
of dragons or of sprites. Here dwelt then old 
Siegfried, whose name is linked with many a 
weird legend. And thus were some of the storied 



74 . THE ARMY OF NICHOLAS. 

spots of this wonderful stream then marked by 
castles above or towers below ; but, generally, 
the hill-sides, at present so cultivated, and 
whence come to the tourist the songs of " peas- 
ant girls with dark blue eyes," were covered 
with dense forests, where wandered the stags 
and boars, the wolves and bears, whose pursuit 
formed, beside war, the only amusement of these 
rude men of old. 

As our children wander southward, let us seek 
to describe the manner of their march, and their 
experiences. 

Of all the strange armies which those days 
of strange sights had witnessed, this was the 
most notable. There were no mailed soldiers, 
who marched beneath feudal banners that had 
waved over battle-fields in Europe and in Asia ; 
there were no chargers that carried strong war- 
riors who held well-used swords ; nor yet were 
there pilgrims of mature years, who had set 
out, unarmed, to pray in consecrated spots. It 
was an army of children, who were actually 
departing to recover possession of a land in 
whose behalf many a host had died in vain. 
In the van we see Nicholas, probably accom- 
panied by an escort and attendants. Then 
the line stretches with varying regularity for 
several miles, and, over the uniformed ranks 



TO THE ALPS. 75 

of little ones, rise the crosses and banners 
that are proudly carried. We see, among the 
numbers, the many adults who desired to share 
the glory of the enterprise or to plunder and 
corrupt. There were women who came to 
profit in their baseness or suffer in their weak- 
ness, and girls who were destined to a bitter 
lot of shame, instead of a rest in Palestine. 
And priests and monks were there, some to 
rob, and some to pray. But the mass were 
boys of about twelve years of age. 1 They gave 
character to the army, and it is with them that 
we are concerned. They came from mansion 
and from hovel, from luxury and from want ; 
the pedigree of princes was possessed by those 
who walked by the side of humble serfs. 

As they marched along, they beguiled the 
time with narrative and song. As to the for- 
mer, there was among them a store which was 
not soon exhausted. 

The children from the castle told of knightly 
feeds by men of famous names, and to the 
more credulous peasants, repeated what they 
had so often heard from their proud kindred, 
who had won such fame in conflict. They who 
had never before spoken with the despised 
boor, forgot their station, and wearied not to 

1 Sicardi. 



7& THE ARMY OF NICHOLAS. 

answer questions concerning the life of the no- 
ble born, which had been almost as sacred and 
revered in the cabins of the lowly as the associ- 
ations of the Holy Land. The serf-child could 
only tell of obscurer feats of arms and of less 
exalted deeds, which his kindred had known ; 
but yet each was ready to hear the wonderful 
stories of the other. In this way, throughout 
the host, the spirit of the cause was kept alive, 
and their minds were inflamed into resolution to 
surpass the achievement of squire, and knight, 
and baron. The fame of the heroes who had 
fallen, to be immortal in song, or who had sur- 
vived to receive the love of woman and the 
envy of man, was yet to pale before the lustre 
of the deeds of God's own army. 

And songs, too, whiled away the tedious 
hours of wandering, as well as aided in sustain- 
ing their spirits. Chroniclers expressly say 
that singing formed a marked feature in their 
journey. They sang many lyrics which re- 
turned pilgrims and warriors had taught them, 
but which, it is sad to say, have been lost. 
They also composed many of their own, which 
have shared the same fate. It is natural to 
wish most earnestly that some of these had 
survived, that thence we might learn something 
of the children's feelings, and that we might 



TO THE ALPS. 77 

enter into a fuller sympathy with them, in read 
ing the words which conveyed their emotions. 
But, although we have not the language of these 
songs, we can well imagine their themes. The 
constant subjects were the restoration of the 
Holy Sepulchre, and the glory of that triumph. 
We need not labor much to realize the ardor 
which nerved them to endure fatigue, when, 
their little hearts bounding with excitement, 
they shouted in spirited tunes the expressions 
of the hopes and dreams of years. 

From the oblivion of ages there has survived, 
however, only one of the hymns which were 
sung by them. It was brought by the recruits 
from Westphalia, and had been sung by many 
a pilgrim before, on the way to Palestine. Its 
words and air, so well adapted to this present 
assemblage, made it popular, and it delights the 
Christian of to-day by the evidence which it 
affords that there lingered yet some apprecia- 
tion of the truth of the Gospel, some love to the 
Saviour. It seems as a gleam of light in the 
darkness of the age. Listen, then, children of 
the nineteenth century, to words which other 
children sang, as they marched along the Rhine, 
nearly seven hundred years ago. 

Let us quote it first in the original, in which 
these little crusaders were wont to sing it, having 
modernized its antique German : — 



7 8 THE ARMY OF NICHOLAS. 

" Schonster Herr Jesus, 
Herrscher aller Erden, 
Gottes unci Maria Sohn ; 
Dich will ich lieben, 
Dich will ich ehren, 
Du, meiner Seele Freud' und Kron ! 

" Schon sind die Felder, 
Noch schoner sind die Walder, 

In der schonen Friihlingszeit ; 
Jesus ist schoner, 
Jesus ist reiner, 

Der unser traurig Herz erfreut. 

" Schon leuchtet die Sonne, 
Noch schoner leuchtet der Monde, 

Und die Sternlein allzumal ; 
Jesus leuchtet schoner, 
Jesus leuchtet reiner, 

Als all' die Engel ini Himmelsaal." 



TRANSLATION. 

" Fairest Lord Jesus, 

Ruler of all nature, 
Thou of Mary and of God the Son ! 

Thee will I cherish, 

Thee will I honor, 
Thee my soul's glory, joy, and crown ! 

" Fair are the meadows, 
Fairer still the woodlands, 

Robed in the blooming garb of spring : 
Jesus is fairer, 
Jesus is purer, 

Who makes our saddened heart to sing. 



TO THE ALPS. 79 

" Fair is the sunshine, 

Fairer still the moonlight, 
And the sparkling, starry host ; 

Jesus shines brighter, 

Jesus shines purer 
Than all the angels heaven can boast." 

How welcome is such a hymn from the past 
ages, and how does it add to our interest in these 
youths who used it ! 1 

Thus singing their songs, they passed on 
southwards, seeking Palestine. But it is nat- 
ural to inquire jf they did not know that the 
Mediterranean intervened ; and if so, how did 
they expect to cross it ? Did their leaders not 
have an answer ready for this question ? We 
find, as a feature of curious interest, that they 
who had excited and promoted the Crusade, had 
promised that the Lord would provide a path- 
way through that great sea to the land beyond 
its waters. Availing themselves of a home 
argument, they pointed to the fearful drought 
which is recorded to have prevailed that Sum- 
mer, as evidence from Heaven that the army 

1 For an account of the discovery of this hymn, see Evan- 
gelical Christendom for May, 1850. This was a magazine for- 
merly issued in London, and to its editors I am indebted for 
a copy. The hymn has since been published in various col- 
lections of sacred music in the above version, which is that 
made by the author of the article in the magazine referred to. 
Hecker asserts that it was used by the children. 



80 THE ARMY OF NICHOLAS. 

was to pass, like Israel's hosts, through the 
sea, for they said that the Mediterranean was 
drying up for this end. This was asserted in 
reply to the natural objections that there would 
not be enough vessels to carry such a vast num- 
ber, or that, if they were obtained, the young 
pilgrims would lack money to pay for their 
transportation and their food. The story was 
believed, and the children were buoyed up and 
encouraged on the march by the anticipation 
of so signal an interference in their behalf. 
Surely, said they, if we are thus to triumph over 
the deep waters, as did the people of God in old 
times, we must win an equal success, and rest 
in the same land, by virtue of the same divine 
aid. 

They journeyed onward through the domains 
of the lords and nobles who owed allegiance 
to France, or to the Empire. Their fame may 
have preceded them, or it may not, yet their 
arrival was always the signal of commotion in 
every village, where they won new recuits from 
the astonished and enraptured children. Each 
member of the host told, in his own words, the 
same tale of a celestial call and of a certain suc- 
cess, and repeated, with embellishments of his 
own invention, the appeal in behalf of the de- 
filed Tomb of Christ. If night overtook them 



TO THE ALPS. 8 1 

by any town or hamlet, they sought shelter 
where they could find it. One chronicler tells 
us that no city on the way could contain the 
army. Some slept in houses, where the kind- 
hearted or the sympathizing invited them to 
rest ; others reposed in the streets and market- 
places ; while they who could find no space 
within, lay down without the walls. But if, as 
was generally the case, the darkness found them 
in the open country, they passed the night in 
the barns and hovels, under the trees of the 
forest, or on the green bank of some stream, 
and the angel of sleep closed their heavy eye- 
lids under the starlight. The day's march was 
wearisome to little ones who had never before 
been out of sight of home, and therefore they 
soon fell asleep, wherever it was. When morn- 
ing came, they ate whatever they had in their 
wallets or what they begged or bought as they 
went. The line of march was again formed, the 
banners unfurled, the crosses uplifted, and, with 
the morning song they began another day of 
fatigue. At noon they rested by some brook to 
eat their scanty meal and quench their thirst, 
and again started to wander on through the 
quiet hours of afternoon, until the welcome sun- 
set reminded them that they had passed an- 
other stage of their journey to distant — O, so 

distant ! — Palestine. 
6 



82 THE ARMY OF NICHOLAS. 

But their great trials soon began. After 
what we have learned of the mingled elements 
in the army, it does not surprise us to learn that 
the evil-disposed spread every kind of misery, 
and that there ensued all sorts of demoraliza- 
tion. Those children who had any money were 
robbed or cheated of it, and they who had only 
food in their wallets soon had that stolen by 
the hangers-on and thieves. The depraved 
men and women gave way to their passions, 
so that vice grew daily, and parts of the camp 
became scenes of sin and lust. The disorders 
were increased by the rivalries of subordinate 
leaders, until at last they moved on, but little 
more than a loose, lawless concourse, without 
chiefs and without discipline. Consequently, 
they were at the mercy of those who for vari- 
ous reasons saw fit to molest them, and with 
impunity the wild barons could swoop down 
upon them from their fastnesses, and seize as 
many as they would, to hold them in harsh ser- 
vitude, or else to sell them for profit. 

They reached at length the territory now 
called Switzerland, but which was then a con- 
glomeration of petty lordships, most of them be- 
ing subject to the Duke of Burgundy, but many 
belonging to the Emperor. Threading its beau- 
tiful valleys, and passing along its foaming rivers, 



THE PASSAGE OF THE MONT CENIS. 83 

they came to the shores of Lake Leman, and 
encamped by the walls of Geneva. Thence they 
sought the Alps, which rose grand and impos- 
ing before them. To cross those trackless 
heights was now the task to which the poor lit- 
tle children were to address themselves. Weary 
and worn, singing and sighing, they neared the 
dark mountains on whose summits rested the 
eternal snows. 



II. 

The Passage of the Mont Cents. 

Other causes than those already referred to, 
had tended to diminish the numbers of the 
youthful army. As we hurry, by railroad or 
steamboat, through the regions they traversed, 
we have to exert our imagination to form an 
accurate picture of the condition of those lands 
at the date of which we are speaking. The 
population of Europe was very sparse, probably 
not one tenth of its present amount, and it was 
generally restricted to the vicinity of cities. 
Tracts now thickly peopled and smiling with 
crops were uninhabited and untilled, and in 
them animals roamed unmolested. The few 
highways which led from city to city were 
wretched and devious, passing through dense 



84 THE ARMY OF NICHOLAS. 

forests, and by haunts of robbers who could, 
with no terror of law, plunder the unguarded 
traveller. 

Journeying through countries such as those 
on the route which they followed, where popu- 
lation was scanty even for those times, produced 
terrible effects among the children. In fording 
streams where there were no bridges, many 
are said to have been drowned. We are also 
told that the wild beasts seized many an unwary 
or worn-out straggler. They often found them- 
selves in these unpeopled regions without any 
food, and then they had nothing to eat but the 
wild fruit and berries by the way-side, so that 
starvation ended the lives of numbers, whose 
exhausted frames easily yielded to its pangs. 
Disease, produced by constantly recurring cir- 
cumstances, tended also to thin the ranks. And 
from all these sorrows resulted the chief cause 
of the diminution of the army, which was deser- 
tion. Weary and discouraged, they fell away at 
every step, and sought their homes in groups. 

As far as can be ascertained, about one half 
of the original number remained when they 
came in sight of the Alps, which towered be- 
fore them, peak beyond, peak. 

The route they selected was that over the 
Mont Cenis, which, in the Middle Ages, was 






THE PASSAGE OF THE MONT CENTS. §5 

the most frequented of all the passes into Ita y 
Into the heart of the mountains, then, the chil- 
dren plunged, where was a sparse population 
that tilled the valleys, and dwelt by the foaming 
torrents, gathering scanty crops from the little 
meadows which lay, here and there, between the 
streams and the rocks. But in these people our 
Crusaders found enemies instead of friends. 
For they were, we are told, to a great extent 
heathen and even idolaters, as were many of the 
inhabitants of the Alps up to this date, and the 
records of the time contain allusion to their 
constant depredations upon pilgrims and "trav- 
ellers. In the Valais there were numbers of 
Saracen Mohammedans, who had penetrated 
thither from the sea on forays, and had re- 
mained, unable or unwilling to return. 1 Through 
these hostile ravines the army persevered until 
the ascent began in earnest. New trials now 
commenced, which rendered those of the past 
insignificant. The road was merely a narrow, 
stony path over streams and along precipices, 
over dreary mountain slopes, where grew only 
the heather and rhododendron, or over fields of 
unmelted snow. 

The chronicles of the time abound in narra- 
tives of the perils encountered in the Alps, by 

1 Michaud's Crusades. 



86 THE ARMY OF NICHOLAS. 

those journeying, not for pleasure, but on vari- 
ous errands. There were merchants seeking 
their marts, soldiers seeking the battle-fields or 
their homes, ecclesiastics passing to and from 
Rome. In view of the great amount of travel 
produced by the relations between the Pope 
and Northern Europe, by the pilgrim spirit that 
has long since almost died away, 1 by the cease- 
less plying of diplomacy, and by other causes 
peculiar to the Middle Ages, there is reason to 
believe that the passes over the Alps were 
probably as much frequented then as they are 
now. Consequently the frequency of incidents 
of suffering was far greater when there were no 
roads as at present, but only rude bridle-paths. 
Among the most remarkable of all the pas- 
sages on record was that of Henry IV., with 
his wife and child, when he was on his way to 
Canossa to humiliate himself before the Pope. 
His experience casts light on that of the chil- 
dren. His route was also over the Mont Cenis. 
Vast quantities of snow had fallen, and for 
several weeks no one had ventured to cross 
to or from Italy. At length the Emperor se- 
cured reluctant guides, and started with many 
attendants. The ascent was toilsome and terri- 
ble. The Empress, with her babe, was dragged 
over the snow on ox-hides, and wrapped in 

1 In 1350, 1,200,000 pilgrims visited Rome. 



THE PASSAGE OF THE MONT CENTS. 87 

furs. The descent was still more perilous. The 
horses and mules were lowered from ledge 
to ledge, or else their feet were tied, and then 
they were suffered to slide down the icy slopes. 
Over the cliffs and precipices many a guide 
and servant fell, to be found no more. It was 
through such untold terrors and hardships that 
the subdued ruler of Germany passed to meet 
the stern presence of the Pope, his rival and 
his conqueror. Well has it been said that " he 
would be a hardy mountaineer, even now, who 
would undertake such a journey, unless a soul 
or an empire were at stake." 

Many of the children who had not yielded 
under the past trials, now felt they could do 
no more. The rocks cut their shoeless feet ; 
the air of sunless chasms chilled them ; while 
they saw that there was no hope of food or rest 
until the pass were traversed. Group after group 
then sadly turned their faces homeward, their 
ardor for the Sepulchre and the Land quenched 
by this revelation of what lay in the path by 
which they must be reached. 

We may briefly follow, by the aid of scanty 
records and conjecture, the adventures of those 
who resolved to brave the passage. It lasted 
several days and nights, longer than usual, as 
they were disorganized, and their sufferings 



88 THE ARMY OF NICHOLAS. 

during this period surpassed powers of descrip- 
tion. 

The children of wealthy or noble families 
had been provided, we are told, with attendants 
who carried supplies of food and clothing, and 
thus were these enabled to endure the hard- 
ships of the way. But as these cases were al- 
most exceptional, there was little done in this 
way to lessen the trials of the mass. The others 
suffered severely from the want of food, and 
in this state were entirely unequal to the ex- 
hausting labor of climbing difficult ascents. 
They had left home in the summer, when their 
raiment was thin ; it had become scanty and 
ragged in the long and dusty march, so that 
they were exposed to the full severity of the 
cold. Onward they toiled, hungry and tired, 
disheartened and discouraged by the gloomy 
mountain scenery, and by the ever new revela- 
tion of other heights beyond those they had 
thought the last. On, through black forests of 
pines and firs, through moors, over ridges, leap- 
ing from stone to stone, as they met a stream, 
across treacherous snows into which they sank, 
and which froze their feet, and over jagged 
rocks which lacerated them, travelled this deci- 
mated band of children, which, a short month 
before, had departed from the walls of Cologne 
with exultant hearts and gleaming eyes. 



THE PASSAGE OF THE MONT CENIS. 89 

No scene was more impressive and character 
istic than that presented as they stopped to rest 
at evening. Glad, and yet sorrowful, to see the 
sun set, they ceased the weary walk, wherever 
the darkness overtook them. They ate the 
little bread that was left, drank of the thirst- 
provoking snow-water, and then, in their wet 
and ragged clothing, lay down upon the heather 
or the rocks. They who were so fortunate as to 
find any wood, made a fire, around which they 
crowded for protection from the piercing cold, 
that came in blasts from the gorges and glaciers 
above them. What pen can describe the emo- 
tions of those children, as they thus prepared 
to sleep, while they thought of their distant 
dear ones and of the comforts they had so wil- 
fully abandoned ! 

What a sight did the Spirit of the Alps behold, 
as he saw these encampments, where, under the 
cold and solemn starlight, or in the chilly rain, 
thousands of boys and girls lay sleeping, and, 
in dreams of home and of the Holy Land, 
whence they were to return in triumph, forget- 
ting the trials of the day which had closed, and 
those to come with the morrow ! How many 
fell into the sleep that knows no waking, and, 
when comrades rose to start in the morning, 
remained cold and stiff where they had dropped 



90 THE ARMY OF NICHOLAS. 

At evening ! They could not be buried in the 
frozen earth ; their bodies were left to moulder 
away to dust. 

At the summit of the pass of Mont Cenis 
there was, as there is still, a monastery, where 
already, for four hundred years, kind monks 
had dwelt, to furnish food to the pilgrims and 
travellers who had ventured on the journey 
unprovided, or who needed somewhere to rest 
at night or a refuge from the storm. They 
also acted as missionaries to the heathen 
population around them, and performed the 
necessary offices of religion for the Chris- 
tians. Rejoiced must the young Crusaders 
have been to reach this Hospice, which not 
only gave them food and partial shelter, but 
also reminded them that the worst of the 
journey was accomplished, the most dreaded 
obstacles surmounted, and that the exhaust- 
ing ascent was now to be exchanged for de- 
scent. 

After a brief stay, they passed on. As at 
length a turn in the path showed them the 
plains at the foot of the mountain, how the 
sight thrilled them ! They saw the rivers, 
which looked like threads of silver through 
green fields of tapestry, and villages and vine- 
yards, that formed a scene of cultivation and of 



THE PASSAGE OF THE MONT CENIS. 9 1 

beauty which was unknown in their northern 
home. With renewed strength, they rushed 
downwards until they trod the soil of Italy. 

The present territory of Piedmont was, in 
these days, divided into many small states, in- 
dependent and proud, but generally owing alle- 
giance to the Duke of Savoy, or to the Marquis 
of Montserrat. Through these domains lay the 
path of the army, and it was a path of continued 
trial. They had hoped that, with the passage 
of the Alps, their sufferings would end ; but 
they had now to endure trials of another nature. 
The Italians were embittered against the Ger- 
mans, owing to the constant wars carried on by 
the Emperors, and, when these children were 
in their power, they visited upon them the sins 
of their fathers. They were subjected to cruel- 
ties of every sort. They were refused entrance 
to the towns ; the lords seized many of them, 
whom they carried away to hold as slaves, dis- 
regarding the voice of the Church and of hu- 
manity. The army hurried from peril to peril, 
through a land to which they had looked for- 
ward so hopefully. At length they reached a 
mountain range, from whose summit they saw, 
in its beautiful amphitheatre and facing its noble 
bay, Genoa " the proud." There was the sea, 
blue and boundless, which they had never be- 



92 THE ARMY OF NICHOLAS. 

held before, and, on the shore, bathed in the 
sunlight, lay a city which seemed a vision of 
fairy land to their eyes, accustomed only to the 
scanty splendor of Germany. 

The effect of this sight can be easily im- 
agined. The youngest and weariest were 
strong again, and the departed were pitied, as 
the goal of the journey lay before the crusading 
army. Banners, which had been furled in de- 
spondency, were raised again to float in the sea- 
born air. Crosses were again held aloft in ex- 
ultation. Songs were resumed, which had not 
been heard for many a tearful day, and hymns 
of triumph were shouted as hopefully as when 
they had been heard by the distant City of the 
Kings. Discords were forgotten. Nicholas, 
whose sway had been disregarded, was again 
their prophet and leader, and again were stories 
of triumph and of glory on every lip, and dreams 
of fame in every heart. No more Alps ! No 
more wilderness ! No more want, fatigue, and 
suffering ! Only the path through the sea re- 
mains to be traversed, and then we will tread the 
shores of Palestine ! Thus did the children ex- 
claim, as they saw, from the hills whereon thev 
stood, the towers and palaces of Genoa. 



GENOA. 93 

III. 

Genoa. 

On Saturday, the twenty-fifth day of August, 
in the year 12 12, the army of children stood by 
the gates of Genoa, begging in the name of 
Christ and the Cross for admission,. that they 
might rest after a journey of seven hundred 
miles. 1 

It was not such a band as had left the banks 
of the Rhine. Of the twenty thousand, but 
seven thousand remained under the guidance 
of Nicholas. 2 Where were the rest ■? They slept 
by every torrent, in every forest, on every hill- 
side along the weary way. The route through 
Burgundy and Switzerland, and over the moun- 
tain paths, was marked by their graves or by 
their unburied corpses. Many had returned in 
sorrow to the homes they had left in enthusiasm, 
and others who had found new homes or had 
been kidnapped, were never more to see, or to 
desire to see, the scenes of infancy. Only 
the most determined and robust were left, 
and as a consequence there stood by Genoa 
the flower of the youth of the Rhine-lands, who 

1 Ogerius Panis : " Die Sabbati, VIII. Kal. Sept." Vincent 
de Beauvais also gives this date. 

2 Sicardi and Ogerius Panis. 



94 THE ARMY OF NICHOLAS. 

had become rugged and strong ; the weak and 
sickly having been sifted out by the experiences 
of the way. The same causes which had 
forced the feeble to relinquish the enterprise, 
or had exhausted them, had contributed to 
purge the band of the dissolute and depraved. 
Those who had enlisted merely with the desire 
to escape parental restraint and to indulge 
their sinful propensities, would not be expected 
to endure the continued hardships, and, as soon 
as the attendant difficulties exceeded the grati- 
fication which they derived, they had turned 
their backs on the band, and -either sought their 
homes readier to submit to rule, or else, as was 
the case with many, remained in the cities along 
the route, where they grew up in vilest habits, 
and where they swelled the ranks of the de- 
praved. Likewise did the adults who had joined 
to plunder and to demoralize, shrink from 
fatigue, and seek Other spheres for plying their 
arts, although not until they had worked great 
misery. In all respects, the army was there- 
fore purified by its trials. 

But very changed was the appearance of the 
seven thousand. Their garments were tattered 
and faded, their feet shoeless and wounded. 
Their faces had been burned by the sun and 
the snow, and their expressions saddened by 



GENOA. 95 

sorrow. Yet they were capable of more endur- 
ance than they had been at first, and they were 
buoyed up by new confidence as they reached 
the shore of the Mediterranean. 

Genoa was at this time at the height of her 
prosperity, and shared with Venice and Pisa 
the commerce of Europe. Not yet had her 
decadence begun. It was to be a hundred 
years, before, in that long war, the Lion of St. 
Mark was to humble her, after that she had 
herself crushed her rival, Pisa. Now her port 
was filled with the shipping of all climes. Her 
merchant princes dwelt in palaces, many of 
which yet astonish the stranger. Her Senate 
surpassed in dignity all other governments, and 
the state of her Doges excelled in pomp that of 
the monarchs of Europe, with whom they treated 
as equals. Many a score of galleys rode at 
anchor in her fair harbor, ready to avenge 
her insults and to preserve her colonies. Her 
territory extended far into the interior, for the 
Republic, though a city, owned wide domains, 
from whence came her soldiers and her food. 

Before the august body which governed this 
state came the petition of Nicholas and his 
army, that they might sleep within the walls 
but one night. They asked not to remain longer. 
They could not tarry, as they were in haste to 



g6 THE ARMY OF NICHOLAS. 

reach the Holy Land, to whose shores duty 
and desire impelled them. Nor did they ask 
for galleys, or for vessels of any kind, to trans- 
port them thither. On the morrow, the sea 
which Genoa had failed to curb, was to be 
divided by the Lord, and this army was to 
march dry-shod to the coast it sought. God 
had chosen that city as the place of this mira- 
cle, and the astonished Senators were warned, 
lest they refuse to aid those so signally under 
the care of Omnipotence. 

The authorities heard the petition, and, in 
mingled wonder and pity, they considered it. 
But they did not hesitate long. Sympathy with 
the deluded youths moved them to consent 
that they might tarry six or seven days for rest 
and refreshment, for surely, said the Senators, 
they will return homewards when they discover 
their deception. 

Eagerly did the boys receive the permission, 
and exultingly did they enter the city, where 
they anticipated enjoying such repose as they 
had not known since they had started from Co- 
logne. They marched through the stately- 
streets, regarding in amazement the sumptuous- 
ness visible on every hand, and thinking of the 
meanness of their own less favored homes. 
What a change was this from desert wilds and 
Alpine heights ! 



GENOA. 97 

Their joy and wonder were equalled by the 
astonishment of the inhabitants, when they saw 
defiling through the gates, and crowding the 
streets, so many fair-haired children, who, carry- 
ing banners and crosses, sang in spirited songs 
their determination to rescue the Holy Sepul- 
chre, to achieve which they had come from far 
beyond the Alps, under the guidance of a child. 
The merchant left his desk, the young ceased 
their play, the maidens gazed in wonder or in 
tenderness, the grave nobles were moved to sur- 
prise, as these blue-eyed youths from the Rhine 
passed by. 

But, when once the permission to enter had 
been accorded by the Senate, they resolved on 
that same day to rescind it. There were three 
reasons which were imperative. 1 In the first 
place there was to be feared the effect upon the 
morals of the city that might be produced by 
seven thousand unrestrained boys. In a short 
time they might, relying on their numbers, give 
way to lawlessness, and introduce results which 
the jealous government well knew how to dread. 
Again, the Senate feared lest so sudden an 
addition to the population might produce a 

1 For this action of the Senate, and the motives which ruled 
them, see Sicardi, Og. Panis, Petrus Bizarus, Ubert. Folietus, 
Jac. de Voragine. 

7 



98 THE ARMY OF NICHOLAS. 

famine, for, situated as Genoa was, there was 
never any great superabundance of food. But 
the last and principal reason which weighed 
with the Senators was political. The Emperor 
Otho was, as we have seen, at war with the 
Pope, and in the contest Genoa was ranged on 
the Guelph or papal side. This had been its 
party for many years, and the name of German 
had become odious. The adults had learned 
to cherish this animosity in their experience of 
the rigor of the wars of Barbarossa, and the 
young had been trained to regard the coarse 
" Tedescas " as enemies of the Church, enemies 
of Italy, and as panting to lay hands on fair 
Genoa, as they had so ruthlessly done upon 
Milan. To shelter German children, then, al- 
though ostensibly on a Crusade, would be to 
harbor foes, and to care for a hated race, which 
the Pope had declared outlawed. Why might 
they not, the Genoese mob exclaimed, be emis- 
saries of Otho, and endeavor to seize the city for 
him ? But, more potent in the minds of the 
Senators than these fanatical cries of the popu- 
lace, was the consideration that Innocent might 
take it in bad part if they sheltered so many 
Germans, whose object, so absurd, might be 
doubted. To use a modern phrase, it would 
not give as clear a record as they wished. It 



GENOA. 99 

# 

might be used against them by some rival for 
the favor of the Pope. 

The result of the deliberations was that the 
authorities told the children that they could 
only remain one night ; on the morrow they 
must depart from the territory of the Republic. 
But, that mercy might not be denied them, 
exceptions would be made for those who should 
desire to remain permanently, and, giving up 
their wild scheme, promise to become good 
citizens. This was politic, for it might secure 
an infusion of strong and robust blood into the 
population, in which respect the hardy North- 
erners were the envy of the enervated dwellers 
rrt warmer lands. 

The confident youths received the command 
in derision, and laughed at the offer to give 
those who desired it a home. " We only ask 
to rest one night. To-morrow you shall see 
how God cares for his army ! Who would 
remain here, when there lies a path in the sea, 
between emerald walls, to the land where glory 
waits us ? " Thus they cried as they prepared 
to sleep that night, in the houses, or in the 
streets, and with hopeful, proud thoughts tthey 
closed their eyes at evening. 

The night passed away. In the morning? 
they rose to rush to the sea-shore and behold 



100 THE 'ARMY OF NICHOLAS. 

the new way upon its bed. But that sea rolled 
as yesterday ; no miraculous chasm yawned to 
receive their eager footsteps. They looked in 
despair out upon the blue and sparkling waves, 
which danced in mockery, and learnt at last 
how terribly they had been deceived. Hours 
wore away, but brought no change. They then 
had to prepare, with disappointed hearts, to 
leave the city, and to deliberate upon the next 
step to be taken. 

But the once derided offer of the Senate was 
not fruitless now. Many who had become 
awakened to an appreciation of their deception, 
and who could not resist the argument of that 
undivided sea, resolved to remain in Genoa. 
They could not tear themselves away from the 
comforts of the city, to encounter a renewal of 
hardships, such as they had experienced. No, 
here would they stay, and, as well as they could, 
secure a luxurious home among scenes so dif- 
ferent from their own abodes, which, if they 
could reach them, would now appear squalid 
and mean, in a cold land, where were no figs, 
no oranges, no vineyards. How many remained 
we are not told. It is stated by the chroniclers 
that there were a large number, and, which 
*s passing strange, we are informed that many 
of the youths rose to wealth and eminence, 



TO ROME. • 101 

founding pedigrees which ranked high in the 
state, among whom was the princely house of 
Vivaldi. 1 Those of noble rank naturally found a 
home with their own class, and so to-day even, 
many a Genoese, who rejoices in a proud title, 
may trace his ancestry back to some boy who, 
born by the Rhine, had been led by a mighty 
delusion to find a new home by the Mediterra- 
nean. 

Those who desired to stay having secreted 
themselves, the rest of the band mournfully 
quitted the city where their hopes had been 
so cruelly shattered, amidst the jeers or the pity 
of the spectators, who lined the streets and the 
walls to see them depart, as they had done to 
see them arrive. 



IV. 

To Rome. 

On Sunday, August 26th, the army which 
had so hopefully and proudly entered Genoa on 
the preceding day, issued with sad hearts from 
its gates. 2 

What is to be done now ? they asked, as they 
gathered in the fields to deliberate. They 
could not return. No, better remain and die in 

1 Sicardi and Petrus Bizarus. 

2 Ogerius Panis, " Die Dominica sequente." 



102 THE ARMY OF NICHOLAS. 

sunny Italy, than perish in the mountains and 
the wilds which lay between them and home ! 
The memory of the past two months was too 
vivid to allow any to desire to repeat their ex- 
periences. 

But encouraging voices said : " Why yield to 
despondency ? Are there no other cities which, 
more hospitable, will give us shelter and vessels 
to transport us to Palestine ? Or, why think 
that Genoa was meant to be the place at which 
the way through the sea was to be made ? It 
may be elsewhere ! Let us push on to the 
southward, until we find the passage which God 
has promised ! " In this way they revived their 
drooping hopes, and thought that theirs might 
yet be the happy destiny of kneeling on the sa- 
cred soil of Israel, and returning from a suc- 
cessful Crusade. 

Resolved to march by land, as far as they 
could, in the direction of Palestine, they turned 
their faces eastward, and soon the people of 
Genoa saw them pass out of sight over the 
hills. -Their spirit was broken, however, and 
the disintegration, which had ceased for a while, 
was renewed. The people by the way induced 
many to remain, and compelled others. Many 
became daily more willing to secure homes in 
so fair a land, and to exchange weary marching 
for repose. 



TO ROME. IO3 

And henceforth discipline seems to have 
been lost ; they became an unregulated, headless 
band. Nicholas is not heard of again. It is 
not probable that his authority survived the 
disappointment at Genoa, where his many 
prophecies had been so signally falsified. He 
may have remained in that city, or he may have 
departed from it with the army, but we can feel 
sure that he was no more the revered prophet 
that he had been. 

Struggling on, the band of pilgrims journeyed 
through the mountain roads which lie to the 
eastward of Genoa. After many hardships, 
they reached Pisa, and gladly hailed its appear- 
ance, thinking it might be the hoped-for termi- 
nation of their march. This city was then the 
rival of Genoa, and almost always its enemy 
in war. It was at this time in its prime. The 
streets, at present so deserted, which sadden 
the visitor by their silence, were full of busy life, 
and the Arno bore on its bosom countless ves- 
sels laden with the produce of all lands. On 
the quays and in the thoroughfares were seen 
as common things the bright and quaint cos- 
tumes of the East, and the dark-hued children 
of warmer climes, who sojourned h^re for pur- 
poses of traffic ; but that which astonished the 
stranger most of all was meeting camels in the 



104 THE ARMY OF NICHOLAS. 

streets. Slaves of all races tugged the oar of far 
wandering ships, and bore witness to the prow- 
ess and the wealth of Pisa. There stood then, 
new and fresh, the wonderful Cathedral and 
Baptistery, with the leaning Campanile, and, in 
the exquisite Church of Santa Maria by the 
river, the sailors prayed and gave votive offer- 
ings as they departed or as they returned from 
sea. 

Concerning their reception and stay in Pisa, 
we know but little. That they were kindly re- 
ceived, may be inferred in a twofold way. In 
the first place, that Genoa had expelled them, 
would be a title to the hospitality of Pisa. And 
we are informed, in the next place, that two 
shiploads of children sailed thence to the Holy 
Land. 1 This fact is merely mentioned. To our 
regret, we know not if they reached that desti- 
nation. There seems to be an indication, how- 
ever, that they succeeded in arriving at Ptole- 
mais, then the only port in the hands of the 
Christians. If they did, the Crusaders there 
must have thought that there had been at home 
a cessation of authority and of sense, to allow 
children to embark on so mad an enterprise, 
and to add their hungry mouths to the popula- 
tion already scant of food. Therefore if these 

1 Chron. Senoniense. 



TO ROME. 105 

children from Pisa reached the land for which 
they hoped, it was only to be pent up in a belea- 
guered city, and to suffer and die of want and 
of disease. 

Those who did not embark from Pisa, left its 
walls and sought to journey still farther south- 
wards, resolved to follow the roads towards Pal- 
estine, as far as they would lead them. They 
broke up into bands and groups, and pursued 
different routes. Florence and Arezzo saw 
them in their streets, and wondered at their ap- 
pearance. Perugia beheld them pass beneath 
her rocky height, or else welcomed them in her 
walls, while others took their way by Sienna. 
And, as they went through this land of figs 
and of olives, the same story was repeated, of 
enticement and of seizure, to which they sub- 
mitted with few regrets. 

At last a remnant of the original number 
who had left the place of gathering, reached 
Rome, which was to be the limit of their jour- 
ney. On some pleasant Autumn day, they 
passed by Soracte, over the already ruin-strewed 
Campagna, and greeted the great city where 
their faith centered. 1 

Strange must have been the contrast pre- 
sented by Rome, to those who came directly 

1 Ckron. Argenteum. 



106 THE ARMY OF NICHOLAS. 

from the wealthy marts of Genoa and Pisa. 
Distracted by feuds, the city was impoverished, 
and squalid misery crouched among the crum- 
bling remains of palaces and temp'es. This was 
the middle of that period of desolation which 
intervened between the ruin worked by the 
barbarians and the return of the present pros- 
perity. Rome was, probably, at this time the 
most miserable city in Europe. 

The children were brought before the Pope. 
Innocent was never known to feel or to yield 
to emotions of pity or of tenderness. His na- 
ture knew but little of kindness, and his con- 
duct now showed his character. The children 
told their story of wandering, of suffering, of 
wrong, and of frustrated hopes. They rehearsed 
the account of their call by the Lord, and of the 
promises made to them, asking that he would 
assist them in prosecuting their journey, and 
give them encouragement and advice. Very 
naturally he praised their ardor and persever- 
ance in so good a cause, but commanded them 
to desist from the further attempt to reach Pal- 
estine, showing the vanity of the enterprise. 
With a heartlessness born of his absorption in 
the cause of the Crusades, he said that never- 
theless they could not be released from their 
vows ; that they -must, when they reached ma- 



TO ROME. 107 

turer years, redeem their promise to fight for the 
rescue of the Holy Sepulchre, whenever he 
should call upon them. He also sent word 
abroad to all who had returned, or who had found 
homes by the way, that they would be likewise 
held to their assumption of the Cross, and that 
exceptions would only be made in favor of the 
aged who had joined in the movement, and of 
the very young, who could not have understood 
the language of the promise when they made it. 
In this way were the children bound to a repeti- 
tion of their adventures and hardships. One 
writer justifies this edict of Innocent, compar- 
ing it to the fulfillment of Jephthah's vow. 1 

Here the journey of the army which left Co- 
logne under Nicholas, ended at last, and we 
close its story. The few who had reached 
Rome prepared to return homewards, their 
hopes all given up, and their dreams of tri- 
umph and of glory forever abandoned. 

The few particulars which have been pre- 
served concerning their return will be related 
when we reach the termination of the march of 
the other army, as the features of the homeward 
journey of both bands were similar. 

We now turn again to those who had not left 
Cologne under the leadership of Nicholas. 

1 Herter, in his Life of Innocent III. 



CHAPTER V. 

THE ARMY WITH THE UNKNOWN LEADER. 

Over the army which departed from Cologne 
under other leadership than that of Nicholas, 
there hangs, to our regret, great obscurity. 
Of its adventures but little detail has been pre- 
served. Who its commander was, we do not 
know. He, who enjoyed the praises of thou- 
sands and revelled in the adulation of a host, 
surely thought that the part he played was des- 
tined to be forever memorable, and that his 
name would be recalled when others of contem- 
porary fame were forgotten. As he contrasted 
his task, which was to lead the Lord's children 
to a bloodless victory, with the exploits of the 
soldiers and nobles who were fighting for rival 
claimants of a crown, he doubtless imagined 
that, when the wars of Otho and of Frederick 
had been dropped by the Muse of History 
as trifling, she would linger long and fondly 
over the record of the rescue of the Holy City 
and the reinstatement of the Saviour's worship 
among scenes consecrated by the story of his 



ARMY WITH THE UNKNOWN LEADER. IO9 

Incarnation. But his hopes were vain and his 
dreams of glory delusive. Less fortunate than 
his two fellow-leaders in the same Crusade, he 
has been forgotten, and .there exists to-day, as 
far as can be ascertained, no clue to his name. 
It may yet be found in the unfrequented library 
of some old monastery, or in the dusty alcoves 
of some other repository of the learning and the 
piety of other days. 

Nor do we know why the children at Co- 
logne divided ; why they did not unite under 
Nicholas. We are only told their route in gen- 
eral terms, and a few particulars of the issue of 
their journey. 

They pursued a route which was longer; 
taking a circuitous course through Swabia, to 
the frontiers of what we now call Switzerland. 
In numbers they equalled those under Nicholas, 
and were equally heterogeneous. There were 
the many adults, male and female, old and 
young, wicked and pious. There was equal 
variety in the classes and ranks from whence 
recruits were won, and in all respects the as- 
semblage was as motley and as ungovernable. 
It is possible that this variety produced such 
disorganization that, whoever may have led 
them at first, ere long all semblance of author- 
ity was lost, and the people only saw an undis- 



110 ARMY WITH THE UNKNOWN LEADER. 

ciplined, and, as they thought, a headless throng. 
In this way we may account for the loss of the 
name of this rival of Nicholas. 

On some unrecorded day, — it may have been 
before or after the departure of that other mis- 
guided host whose journey we have described, 
— this band passed across the Rhine and soon 
disappeared from the gaze of those who watched 
them from the river's bank. Why they chose 
this course we do not know ; it may have been 
to gain new adherents, and to carry the excite- 
ment to districts which had not been aroused. 
The same circumstances attended their march 
as that of the others. They bore crosses and 
flags, and sang songs and hymns to beguile the 
tedious hours. As they passed along, the labor- 
ers quitted their toil, the young ran away to 
follow them, and they left in their wake a series 
of childless homes. In their presence, the con- 
testing bands of the Emperor and his insurgent 
subject ceased to fight. Towns and cities re- 
ceived them, in sympathy or in fear. 

And they met also with the same vicissitudes. 
The depraved plied arts of infamy, and the 
thieves stole their money and their food. The 
journey wearied them, and want joined fatigue 
to breed and foster disease. The lawless nobles 
seized stragglers to carry them to their castles, 



ARMY WITH THE UNKNOWN LEADER. 1 1 1 

which, now in such peaceful ruins, crown the 
hills and crags of central Germany. From 
hardship to hardship they persisted, losing 
heart at each step, until, having passed the 
lands watered by the Main and the Neckar, 
they reached the Danube. From hence they 
marched on, until they stood by the Rhine again, 
probably near to where it issues from the Lake 
of Constance. Crossing this, they passed 
through Switzerland, and reached the banks of 
the Lake of Lucerne. As they intended to 
cross the Alps by the Pass of the St. Gotthard, 
then next in importance to that of the Mont 
Cenis, they had to sail the length of this beau- 
tiful sheet of water, for no path led around its 
perpendicular and uninhabitable shores. 

Very, very suggestive is it to imagine them 
passing up this lake, and especially up the 
weirdly magnificent Bay of Uri, whose cliffs 
were then as silent" as they are now. More si- 
lent they could not have been, for all the in- 
crease of population of modern days, and the 
progress of science, have resulted in no more 
disturbance than the plash of the little steamer's 
wheel, which wakes the lesser echoes of these 
mighty mountains only for a moment. Upon 
those fathomless blue waters we see them 
moving in many skiffs, their banners wav- 



112 ARMY WITH THE UNKNOWN LEADER. 

ing in the air, and their hearts thrilled by the 
grandeur of the scenery. What a sight it must 
have been ! This lake had not yet the history 
which renders it so hallowed to-day. Griitli, 
where ninety-five years later the immortal three, 
Stauffacher, Fiirst, and Melchthal were to meet, 
and, in that moonlight conspiracy, to form the 
little confederacy of which Switzerland was 
born, was then an unnamed meadow, and flow- 
ers grew undisturbed upon the rock where now 
there stands Tell's Chapel in beauty which de- 
fies forgetfulness. 

They reached the head of the lake, and, dis- 
embarking, prepared to tread the path which 
led over the Alps to the sunny lands of the 
South. Thirty miles of weary climbing were 
to be achieved before the top was reached. 
There was no road. A wretched path wound 
from side to side of deep gorges and from peril 
to peril, often obliterated or swept away by 
the snows and torrents. Frequently the frail 
bridges, made in the Spring, had been also 
washed away, and the children must wade 
through the freezing waters, which carried off, 
in their violence, more than one who could not 
resist the rushing, chilling stream. Those who 
have followed this route, even upon the present 
fine causeway, well remember the gloom of its 



ARMY WITH THE UNKNOWN LEADER. 1 13 

defiles, the giddiness of its precipices, the awe- 
inspiring effect of the lofty mountains above, 
and the ceaseless roar of the cataracts below. 
Let such imagine the emotions of the little 
ones who trod this path seven hundred years 
ago ! But, of all places, one appals the traveller- 
to-day more than any other. Between two per- 
pendicular walls of rock, rushes, in concentrated 
force, the foaming Reuss. Within this chasm 
there springs from side to side, the Devil's 
Bridge. As we now cross the strong and no- 
ble arch which carries the road over the yawn- 
ing abyss, we cannot fail to shudder at the pre- 
cariousness of the ancient route, which was only 
superseded within the present century. The 
path then led for quite a distance along an un- 
even shelf that projected about a yard from the 
face of the perpendicular cliff, until directly in 
front of a cataract. From this ledge the bridge, 
hardly four feet wide, sprang to the opposite 
side, where the path was resumed, almost as 
dizzy as before. In fact so difficult was it to 
understand how an arch had been built here, 
that the people attributed its origin to Satan. 
They said that, after many unsuccessful at- 
tempts had been made to construct a bridge 
and prevent the frequent loss of life, a man un- 
dertook the task, who came to the conclusion 
8 



114 ARMY WITH THE UNKNOWN LEADER. 

that no mortal could build one in that place. 
Then there appeared to him that person so ac- 
tive in records of the Middle Ages, the Devil. 
He said that he would complete the contract, 
if he were to have, as his pay, the soul of the 
•first one that passed over the work. The bar- 
gain was gladly closed, and the next morning 
revealed a fine stone arch, spanning the con- 
quered chasm. The happy man kept his agree- 
ment, but, with a pious regard for human wel- 
fare, sent over it first — his dog. The enraged 
architect seized a rock and threw it to ruin his 
work, but Providence diverted it, so that it fell, 
where it still lies, in the bed of the stream be- 
low. 

Through scenes so wild did our children 
pass, and over other bridges almost as preca- 
rious. It needs not the record of the chroni- 
cler to tell us that many met death in these 
gloomy scenes of Uri. They died from hunger 
and fatigue, from disease and exposure. Ava- 
lanches and streams swept them away as they 
unwarily crossed their courses. Others, when 
the valleys were shrouded in mist, strayed from 
the path and wandered off into lateral gorges, 
where they lay down exhausted, on moors or 
in ravines, to sleep away their lives. The Al- 
pine rose was beautiful, but it could give no 



: 



ARMY WITH THE UNKNOWN LEADER. 1 1 5 

sympathy. The springs sang cheerily, but 
they sounded as mockery. • Worn out, bodily 
and mentally, hundreds, who in wanderings 
of mind saw vividly their once unvalued but 
now beloved homes, with children's grief and 
children's timidity, sobbed till they ceased to 
breathe. Over their remains no requiem was 
sung, except the voice of torrents ; no weeping 
was heard but the sighing of the wind through 
the firs, which seemed responsive to their sighs ; 
no monument was reared, except the wild flow- 
ers which, when Spring came again, were nur- 
tured by their dust ; while the lofty mountain 
peaks, which kissed the sky and caught the 
clouds, pointed upwards to their rest. We often 
hear, or read, of the sadness and interest of the 
graves of ocean, but not less secret or touch- 
ing are the sepulchres on trackless mountain 
heights. 

On the top of the pass there stood, as stands 
to-day, a monastery like that on Mont Cenis, 
where the traveller or pilgrim could rest or take 
refuge. We can imagine the astonishment of 
the good monks when they saw a vast proces- 
sion of youths, ragged and weary, issuing from 
the gorges and commencing to file across the 
plain on which the Hospice stood. They 
rubbed their eyes, but did not rub away the 



Il6 ARMY WITH THE UNKNOWN LEADER. 

vision, for it was real, and they soon learnt, to 
their additional surprise, that this was the 
Lord's army on the way to Jerusalem. The 
band tarried a while, ate what food was pro- 
vided ; it maybe they slept there, and then pro- 
ceeded to descend the pass. A day or two 
brought them to the lovely plains of Lombardy, 
whose cultivation and richness revived their 
spirits. But Italy was to be to them, as to those 
led by Nicholas, no friendly land. During his 
long wars, Barbarossa had repeatedly ravaged 
this region, and he had excelled himself in the 
destruction of beautiful and ancient Milan. 
These injuries were still fresh in the hearts of 
the people, and we are expressly informed that 
they made these children of the hated race feel 
that they had been unfortunate in their choice 
of a route. Full of enmity, they made the young 
Crusaders pay for the excesses of their country- 
men, so that their journey was stained with 
tears and blood. Many were murdered ; others 
were stolen to be carried away to misery, dis- 
honor, and slavery. 

But they persevered, expecting, as the other 
band, to find a pathway through the sea, when 
they had reached the end of their journey by 
land. It was a long march along that road that 
lay to the east of the Appenines. When they 



ARMY WITH THE UNKNOWN LEADER. 117 

came to Ravenna, or some other city, they 
were disappointed to find in each case that it 
was not the place where the waters were to be 
divided for them. At times, as in Umbria and 
by Ancona, they had mountains to pass over, 
and, as here, or when near the shore, they saw 
the wide Adriatic, how welcome were the cool 
breezes, how earnestly did they long to cross 
its waters ! How interminable must that 
journey have seemed ! Of course they knew 
nothing of geography, and as the names of 
places were told them by the people whom they 
saw, they conveyed no idea whether the goal 
they sought was far or near. They only knew 
that, if they travelled long enough, they would 
reach the extreme point of Italy, which was 
nearest to the Holy Land, and there, surely, 
God would interfere to promote their farther 
progress. In this hope they toiled on, by vil- 
lage and town, by frequent shrine and way-side 
cross ; now in a cool valley, soon afterwards upon 
some fetid marsh ; to-day under the shadow 
of the dark mountains, to-morrow on some 
waving campagna. Was there to be no respite 
to all this ? ' Are we to see our comrades fall 
away and die, until none remain ? Questions 
such as these were daily asked. At length 
they reached Apulia. Here new trials awaited 



I 1 8 ARMY WITH THE UNKNOWN LEADER. 

them. They came now to traverse a Strieker 
land, for it writhed under the tortures of famine 
caused by the drought of which we have spoken 
before. They had succeeded, by begging and 
gathering fruits along the way, in gaining a 
scanty supply of food, but now they were to 
be dependent upon the alms of a starving 
people. All the excesses of dearth were visi- 
ble, and, instead of the usually luxurious crops 
of Italy's genial soil and climate, the Cru- 
saders beheld fruitless trees, and parched fields 
whereon waved stunted stalks that bore no 
grain. So great was the want, so memorable 
the suffering, that their report spread to dis- 
tant Cremona, and its bishop, Sicardi, tells us, 
in strongest language, of the terrors of the 
season, adding that mothers in their hunger 
ate their children. It needs no long statement 
of chroniclers to portray the scenes witnessed 
as a band of unprovided children, emaciated 
and fatigued with marching, journeyed through 
this famishing region. 

Causes above alluded to had tended to the 
diminution of their numbers, all the way from 
the Rhine to this point, and there now re- 
mained but a small fraction of the numerous 
company, who had entered upon their expedi- 
tion so confident of easy march to sure success. 



. 



ARMY WITH THE UNKNOWN LEADER. H9 

But this remainder was again lessened by the 
hardships of Apulia, and each day saw many 
dying, returning, or straggling away, to be lost 
in a vain search for food. 

A considerable number at length reached 
Brundusium, almost at the extremity of the 
Italian peninsula. This was in ancient days an 
important place, and at this time was the princi- 
pal port on that coast, having commerce with 
Eastern lands, to which its situation adapted it. 

Here then we find the children at last, after 
their long march over a route where all forms 
of difficulty had been encountered. 

They who reached this point, although they 
had shown such endurance that they had borne 
up under every kind of temptation and trial, 
were now ready to confess, that, if there was pro- 
vided no sign of any intervention of God in their 
behalf, they would desist from farther attempts. 
Would that we knew how many there were 
who entered the quaint and dirty streets of 
Brindisi, as it is now called, on that August or 
September day ! We know their state. We 
know that their garments, so tattered, bore lit- 
tle evidence of having once been a uniform, 
and that they had not such bright ensigns, nor 
so many crosses as they had taken from 
Cologne. But as to number, we have no indi- 



120 ARMY WITH THE UNKNOWN LEADER. 

cation to guide us. All that can be said is that 
two or three thousand are as many as could 
be expected to remain, after such an incessant 
decimation. 

Concerning their reception in Brindisi, we 
have some information. We learn that they 
were treated with extreme cruelty, and that the/ 
found its people even baser than those who lived 
to the northward. The girls were maltreated, 
seized, and decoyed away, and all the privileges 
of their character of pilgrims were despised. 
As the girls were thus treated, we can justly 
infer that the boys did not escape, but that they 
found it a city of sorrow. What its state must 
have been can easily be conceived, when we 
think upon the condition of Italy. In a few 
cities were centred all the light and all the civ- 
ilization of the times, and in places so remote 
as Brindisi were to be found without alleviation 
the misery, the ignorance, and the irreligion of 
the dark ages. They who to-day visit it and 
find it worse than cities such as Capua or Terni, 
or those of lower Italy in general, can form 
some idea of what it must have been in the 
thirteenth century. 

But the bishop of this evil city, whose name 
has been forgotten, seems to have been a kind- 
hearted man. He is said to have understood the 



ARMY WITH THE UNKNOWN LEADER. 121 

fraud of which the children were victims, anc 
to have labored to undeceive them. He told 
them of the futility of their enterprise and of 
the sin of their disobedience, and then entreated 
them to return, instead of encountering the dan- 
gers that were still to be surmounted ere the 
Holy Land would be reached. 

Most of them listened to advice so obviously 
wise, enforced by an experience so memorable 
as that of their journey. But many neverthe- 
less wished to persevere, and these embarked in 
several ships, whose owners offered to convey 
them to the goal of their desires. They were 
deaf to all remonstrances, and departed for the 
shores of the land in which they longed to rest. 

They were never heard of again. They 
sailed away from the high headlands of Cavallo, 
watched with strange interest by the people of 
Brindisi. And they sailed away into oblivion 
and silence, for where they died — whether in 
the hour of shipwreck on some lone rock in the 
sea, or in slavery in heathen lands, or yet in 
battle with the Saracen — shall not be known 
to mortals, until the day when " the earth and 
the sea shall give up their dead." 



CHAPTER VI. 

THE RETURN OF. THE GERMAN CHILDREN. 

There are various hints and statements 
scattered among the chronicles, concerning the 
homeward wanderings of the German children, 
which may be briefly summed up. The reader 
may consider the relation of the experience of 
these little Crusaders monotonous, as a con- 
stant repetition of hardships and trials. It is 
natural to think how much greater would have 
been the interest of the narrative, if we knew 
more of the reception they met in the cities 
of Italy or Germany, if we had details of their 
adventures, and could associate definite spots 
with certain incidents of their pilgrimage. Epi- 
sodes of romance must have been frequent, for 
we cannot imagine otherwise, when we think of 
hosts of children marching from place to place 
in an age so strange, passing by walls and 
towers which we now regard with veneration, 
and which we visit to recall the departed past. 
There must have been also many events of 



RETURN OF THE GERMAN CHILDREN 1 23 

interest which attended the return of these 
youths, when they sought, in tears and regrel, 
their homes again. As we look upon the route 
from Genoa, or Rome, from Brindisi or Lom- 
bardy, we can find food for many fancies, in 
picturing their northward journey. But only 
a few particulars are preserved, and they are 
told us in general terms. 

It has been seen how the children of both 
of the armies, whose march we have traced, 
dropped away from day to day, and how in this 
way the columns gradually diminished, until but 
a fraction of the original numbers reached the 
termination" of the pilgrimage. 

As was to be expected, when liberated from 
all restraint, they fell a prey to vice in the vari- 
ous cities of Italy, while in their condition of ex- 
haustion and of want they were ready to listen 
to any temptations. The result was that every 
city and town through which they passed re- 
tained numbers of them, especially of the girls. 
Years afterwards travellers found them still 
there, sunken in vice and lost to purity. It is 
stated that for a long time they formed a large 
element in the depraved classes of the land. 
As the quotation at the beginning of this book 
states, the girls were publicly sold as slaves in 
Brundusium. It is probable that this occurred 



124 RETURN OF THE GERMAN CHILDREN. 

in other places, for slavery was still common in 
Europe. 

Many, however, remained willingly and gladly, 
to lead lives of industry in a land which was so 
enticing to those born in a region where nei- 
ther nature nor art had done much for luxury 
and comfort. As it happened in Genoa, it was 
,the case that in other cities numbers remained 
to mingle their blood with that of the dark Ital- 
ians, and, in the pursuit of ease and wealth, to 
forget their dreams of fame and the associa- 
tions of their childhood. 

Yet the most of them persisted in returning. 
There were to be seen frequent groups from both 
bands passing through the towns along the way 
As they journeyed, they constantly came upon 
traces of their predecessors, and slept night after 
night by the scenes of former encampments, 
and by nameless graves. The people who had 
seen them hurrying southwards with some or- 
der and discipline, now saw them returning in 
disorderly companies, which were an easier 
prey than ever to the lawless. The land had 
been inhospitable before, but the few who may 
have been kind to them then, had no care for 
them when foiled and disappointed. 

And when they had crossed the Alps, and 



RETURN OF THE GERMAN CHILDREN 1 25 

stood on German soil, where they had hoped 
for kindly treatment, they learned again that it 
was one thing to belong to a large and enthusi- 
astic army which was seeking to rescue the 
Sepulchre, and another to be a defeated and 
worn-out penitent coming home. As one sym- 
pathizingly says, who may have seen some of 
them, " They who used to pass through coun- 
tries in parties and troops, and never without 
the song of encouragement, now returned 
singly and in silence, barefooted and famished. 
They were a scoffing to all men." 2 He also 
adds that not only did the misery of their ap- 
pearance contribute to render them subjects of 
scorn, and liable to reproach and cruelty, but 
their conduct was such, their morals so ruined 
by the experiences of the past, that they were 
repelled and despised by the same persons who 
once had regarded them as pious deliverers of 
the Holy Land. We can well believe that there 
were many of the groups who so conducted 
themselves that others succeeding them fared 
the worse. But even where there was no mo- 
tive for retaliation, the treatment the children 
received from their countrymen was most cruel. 
Loading them with reproaches and taunts, they 
now turned away from their doors those to 

1 Chron. Argent. 



126 RETURN OF THE GERMAN CHILDREN. 

whom not long before they had not dared or 
wished to refuse food and shelter. 

Consequently, their pathway through Ger- 
many to their homes was as trying as it had 
been in Italy, and they sickened and died, from 
exhaustion and starvation, in a land to which 
they had looked forward with fondness, and 
hope of reaching which had nerved them to 
cross again the terrible Alps. And when they 
had breathed out their weary lives, the barba- 
rous people would not bury their corpses, but in 
heartless inhumanity let them rot by the way- 
side. 1 

Day by day, there came straggling into 
Cologne, or the other cities from whence they 
had departed, groups of these victims of a sad 
delusion, their heads drooping in shame, their 
' eyes red with tears, their clothing in rags. They 
bore not home their insignia, their banners, and 
their crosses. They had cast them away when 
they had learned the folly of their proud boasts, 
and the vanity of this display. They sought 
again the lowly hut and the baronial castle, 
where, at last, they rested, home again ! Alas ! 
how they had paid for their wilfulness ! They 
were asked where they had been, and we are 
told that they replied, " they did not know ! " 

1 Gesta Trevirorum. 



RETURN OF THE GERMAN CHILDREN. 12? 

They only knew of days of varied vicissitude. 
They knew not, in their ignorance, what had 
been their route, what lands they had traversed, 
or what cities they had seen. They had jour- 
neyed until they could journey no longer, and 
then they had turned homewards. What a con- 
fused and wild story did they tell, of strange 
languages and costumes, of curious edifices and 
wonderful fruits ! How many days elapsed be- 
fore they had answered all the questions which 
their friends, in mingled wonder and pity, asked 
of those who had survived ! And those who had 
not survived ! How eagerly were they inquired 
after ! How anxiously did parents greet each 
band to ascertain whether their own dear ones 
had yet come ! How many hearts were kept in 
suspense for days and weeks, while the compa- 
nies continued to arrive, until they found the 
children they cared for, or else learned their fate, 
that they had died in the forest or. on the moun- 
tain, on the plain or in the valley, or had re- 
mained in some distant Italian city, to return 
no more ! There was many a Rachel by the 
Rhine and the Moselle, by the Meuse and the 
Lippe, who wept long years for children dead 
or forever separated from them. 

The Winter had passed, and the following 
Spring had come and gone, before the last com- 



128 RETURN OF THE GERMAN CHILDREN. 

pany came struggling back. Soon the excite- 
ment died away, and, in the confusion and rav- 
ages of war, the sorrows and adventures of the 
little Crusaders were forgotten by the same 
people who had rushed to see them depart, and 
who had wondered at the issue of their enter- 
prise. 

Yet, for many years were they remembered 
by those who had been partakers in the move- 
ment, or by those who had lost a beloved one 
in its whirl. Long afterwards did peasant, no- 
ble, shepherd, and merchant gather with ever 
new interest to hear the old story, and many a 
child became a father, to tell to little ones 
around him the tear-awakening tale of what he 
had seen and suffered, when in childhood he 
set out in credulous enthusiasm " to seek the 
Cross beyond the sea." 

Thus have we, imperfectly enough, attempted 
to tell the story of the Crusade of the German 
children, which arose from the preaching of 
Nicholas at the shrine of the Kings. 

Tersely does an old epigram sum up the 
whole matter : 1 — 

" Ad mare stultorum 
Tendebat iter puerorum." 

1 Quoted by Herter from an unknown source : — 
" To the sea of fools 
Led the path of the children." 



CHAPTER VII. 

THE JOURNEY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN. 

I. 

The Gathering at Vendbme. 

We left Stephen preaching at St. Denys, and 
his youthful lieutenants gathering children from 
various parts of France. This continued long 
after the German army had started and the lat- 
ter was well on its way to Italy before the 
French little ones were ready to begin their 
journey. The probable reason for this was 
that the movement was spread over a greater 
extent of country, and therefore the collecting 
of an army required a longer time. 

Stephen indicated Vendome as the place of 
assembling and of united departure for Pales- 
tine. 1 This city had the advantages of being 
central and near to his home. It was a town 
of importance, and from it there diverged roads 
in all directions. 

During the latter part of June the various 

1 All the chronicles agree in this. 
9 



I30 JOURNEY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN, 

bands continued to arrive in this city, all led 
by a common enthusiasm, and full of common 
hopes. Very stirring must have been the 
streets as daily some new company came, with 
its young prophet, and loud were the noises 
of their greetings. We can imagine how it 
must have seemed to look across the plains 
and see some group coming over the distant 
hills, or defiling across the country, their flags 
and oriflammes waving high in air and crosses 
rising higher yet. ' As they approach, their 
songs are heard, first faint in the distance and 
then clearer and louder until the words are 
distinct, and the dialect discloses the region 
whence they come. 

For they arrived from each province, with 
their different languages and costumes and 
peculiarities ; some speaking the soft accents 
of the South, others the harsher dialects of 
Brittany or Normandy ; some the langue d'Oc, 
others the langue d'Oil. Very great were the 
consequent confusion and the variety in the 
composition of the assembling army, which was 
to march to bloodless glory under Stephen. 
The largest band which came to the gathering 
was that from Paris. Of this company a chron- 
icler says that there were collected in that city 
" fifteen thousand, of whom none were more 



THE GATHERING AT VEND 6 ME. 13 1 

than twelve years of age," 1 a statement which 
we may take with caution, but at the same 
time it shows, as do many others similar, relat- 
ing to the event, how very young the children 
really were, and how great their numbers. The 
cause of so many being recruited in Paris was 
its proximity to St. Denys, as well as its being 
the capital and principal city of the realm. The 
march of this body to Vendome must have been 
peculiarly imposing, and their arrival the great 
excitement of exciting days. The crowds gath- 
ering here were therefore still more motley than 
those at Cologne, as regards diversity of cus- 
toms and of dialects. There were the same 
kinds of hangers-on mingled with the boys. 
The number of depraved men and women was 
as great, and they came from every quarter of 
France to profit by so unique an opportunity. 
There were also many girls, some of whom, 
afraid of detection, assumed male attire. But, 
although there was a large proportion of these 
men and women and girls, attracted by motives 
of a base or of a pious nature, it is nevertheless 
true that their number was relatively smaller 
than it was in the German armies, and therefore 
this movement is more interesting, from being 
more exclusively one of boys. 

1 Roger de Wendover. 



132 JOURNEY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN. 

Yet, however varied their languages and dif- 
ferent their dresses and customs, they all were 
one in their feelings, and understood one another 
in the sympathy of a common, beloved cause. 
Repeating the promises of their leaders, for it 
was with them as with the Germans in this re- 
spect, they all said that they were not to wait, 
as their predecessors in the holy war had done, 
for vessels to carry them to Palestine, and in 
them to find, as had so many brave men, a 
grave in the wide Mediterranean. "Between 
waters, which are to be to us as a wall on the 
right hand and on the left, are we to cross the 
untrodden bed of the sea, and, with dry feet 
will we stand on the distant beach by the walls 
of Acre or of Tripoli. We bear no weapons 
and we wear no armor ! The pathway of other 
Crusaders may be marked by the stain of blood 
and the glitter of steel, and martial music may 
have timed their many steps, but our pilgrim's 
robes are our armor, our Crosses are our swords, 
and our hymns shall time our march ! " 

We are not told whether they assumed any 
general uniform, but the analogy of all other 
Crusades and scattered hints would seem to 
indicate that all who could procure it wore a 
prescribed dress. They all wore the Cross at 
least. This was made of woolen cloth, and 
sewed on the right shoulder of the coat. To 



THE GATHERING AT VEND 6 ME. 133 

place it there was a duty reserved to the proph- 
ets alone, as it was the formal act of enlistment. 
The little fellows were as proud of them as the 
young officer of his epaulettes, and were beside 
themselves with joy at being thus enrolled 
among the Crusaders, and in a company which 
contained so many famous names, the recollec- 
tion of whose deeds fired every heart with a 
desire to equal their achievements. 

As their numbers were too great to be con- 
tained within the city, they encamped without 
its walls, each band by itself and keeping its 
identity until merged into the common mass 
at departure. Day by day they waited, as re- 
cruits continued to arrive* The monks and 
priests who had joined them, either in piety to 
guide them or as pilgrims themselves, aided 
the young leaders in maintaining the spirit of 
enthusiasm and in promoting unity and peace. 
The discouraged were cheered, the homesick 
consoled, and 'the depraved, as far as possible, 
expelled. 

At last, the latest band had come, and Ste- 
phen announced that they were ready to start. 
The number then assembled around Vendome 
was about thirty thousand, 1 as all the estimates 

1 Albericus ; Vincent dc Beauvais ; Chron. Laon ; Jean 
d'Ypres. 



J 34 JOURNEY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN. 

warrant us in concluding. What an uprising 
of homes this was ! How sad -a scene to the 
thoughtful, who foresaw the certain fate of that 
vast multitude ! It was to melt away that 
same Autumn, as the snows of Winter, and 
when a year had rolled around and brought an- 
other Summer, but few of them were to be at 
home again. Many would fill graves among 
strangers or in the deep sea ! For the Summer 
was well advanced, and it was at least the end 
of July when in the camps was heard the bustle 
of departure. We will now follow these thirty 
thousand children seeking, in the heat of Au- 
gust, the port of Marseilles, where they were to 
find that wonderful pathway through the sea. 

II. 

The Journey to Marseilles. 

The fields around Vendome had never seen 
before, and never shall see again, a. sight like 
that which on that day was witnessed, when 
the army of children formed its ranks, to com- 
mence its chimerical pilgrimage. Pleading rela- 
tives and weeping friends were mingled with 
admirers, and entreaties to repent and remain 
were met and counteracted by applause and en- 
couragement. The latter form of advice ac- 



THE JOURNEY TO MARSEILLES. 135 

corded with their wishes, and the deluded 
youths answered the arguments of dissuasion 
with the wild and baseless assertions which 
they had heard from those who urged them on- 
ward. It was too late to reason now. To with- 
draw was impossible, if desired. They could 
not encounter the ridicule of abandoning their 
comrades in this the hour of hope. After relig- 
ious exercises, wherein the blessing of God was 
invoked, the oriflammes and Crosses were raised 
in gladness, and with visions of pleasant wander- 
ings to triumphant rest, these thousands of chil- 
dren commenced their journey. 

Their, route was to lie by Blois, where the 
ancient road crossed the Loire, in a southeast- 
erly direction to the Rhone, and thence south- 
wards to Marseilles. Far different was this 
journey from that of the Germans, for there 
were no Alpine heights or Alpine torrents, and 
the country was not so little civilized and unpeo- 
pled as that which intervened between Cologne 
and Italy. The result of this difference was that 
the hardships of the band whom we are now to 
follow were very much less than those which 
we have described. 

Childlike was their ardor as they began to 
tread the way to Palestine. They looked on 
the red Crosses on their shoulders in order to 



13^ JOURNEY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN. 

acquire that resolution in the holy cause which 
would enable them to exclude regrets for home 
and fear of fatigue. Determined to act as faith 
ful soldiers in the army of God, they set their 
feet down at each step with manly firmness. 
There was a much better spirit among those 
composing this army, than among those who de- 
parted from Cologne, owing to the presence of 
fewer depraved adults and youths. There were 
also very many ecclesiastics, and their presence 
was some restraint upon the tendencies to vice 
and dissension, while they also could encourage 
and advise the desponding. 

They have departed from Vendome, and as 
evening closes around the landscape, the peo- 
ple of that old city have seen disappear the last 
straggler of that army of children led by a child. 
Let us now turn to this leader, of whom little 
has been heard since he preached at St. Denys. 
Fortunately, the chroniclers have preserved to 
us some particulars concerning the deportment 
of this commander of Liliputian Crusaders. 

As would be expected, the applause and 
homage which Stephen received had turned 
his head, as has so often been the case with 
older persons. Elevated in a few weeks, from 
being an obscure shepherd boy in Cloyes, for 
whom none cared, and accustomed to regard 



THE JOURNEY TO MARSEILLES. 137 

the nobles who despised his condition as unat- 
tainably above him, to a station where he 
received the admiration of thousands, was re- 
garded as a saint, and received adulatory obe- 
dience, he would have been more than human 
if he had not learned to be vain, to indulge in 
display, and to exact extreme reverence. Ac- 
cordingly we find that, as he led his army from 
Vend6me, he assumed a pretense of pomp, and 
presented a marked contrast with the appear- 
ance of those whom he commanded. He could 
not walk. That was too humble for such a 
leader. The Lord's own general and prophet 
must assume the style which became his rank. 
He therefore rode in a chariot, as splendid as 
could be procured, which was covered with rare 
carpets of brilliant colors. Over his head, to pro- 
tect him from the heat of the sun, was a canopy, 
whence there hung in folds rich draperies of 
every hue. Around this chariot, to guard him 
and carry out his commands, as well as to add 
to the impressiveness of his station, there rode 
a band of chosen youths of noble birth, on 
chargers, dressed in splendid accoutrements, 
and armed with lances and spears. 1 They vied 
with each other in zeal in his behaJf, and 
gladly obeyed him whom once they would 
have spurned. 

1 Roger de Wen clover, inter al. 



138 JOURNEY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN. 

All this assumption of display does not seem 
to have shaken the confidence of his followers. 
It appears, on the contrary, to have increased 
it, upon principles which we can easily under- 
stand. Too young to see the inconsistency of 
his conduct, they listened to his words as those 
of God, and regarded his desires as law. In 
order to maintain the spirit of the host, which 
fatigue would tend to lessen, he wisely ad- 
dressed them often. When they departed in the 
morning from their resting-place, or when they 
halted at noon or encamped at evening, and 
also during the march, he spoke encouraging 
words from his chariot. It is said, that on such 
occasions they thronged around him so tumultu- 
ously that it frequently required the strenuous 
efforts of his guards to protect him from the 
consequences of their eager homage, and, that 
as they thus pushed and struggled in endeavors 
to approach the prophet boy, accidents occurred, 
many of those who were small and weak being 
crushed to death. 

But such incidents made merely transient 
impressions on this thoughtless crowd. They 
forgot them all when some event awakened 
anew their enthusiasm. To such an extent 
was their regard for Stephen carried, that it 
amounted to investing him with all the attri- 



THE JOURNEY TO MARSEILLES. 139 

butes of sanctity. They vied in efforts to pro- 
cure from his person or his chariot some little 
fragment, which was kept as a relic and valued 
as a charm. They who had succeeded in secur- 
ing a thread of his raiment, or a piece of the 
trappings of the car, or even of the accoutre- 
ments of the horses, showed them with exulta- 
tion to the others ; while they who had a single 
hair of his head were regarded as possessors of 
a priceless treasure. 

As regards the moral character of Stephen, 
one chronicler says : " He was a child in years 
but accomplished in vice." * But he wrote 
long after the event, and in his whole narrative 
is under the conviction that Stephen had origi- 
nated and carried out the deception, and visits 
on this child's head all the disasters and sor- 
rows which resulted. Of course, if he had been 
a wilful deceiver, and had acted a conscious 
fraud so cruelly and with so many lies, he would 
have been remarkably mature in depravity as 
well as in intellect. But if, as we have seen, 
it was the case that he was himself the subject 
of deception by a priest, then the above accu- 
sation, founded on the supposition of his origi- 
nating the movement and fabricating the story 
of his call, falls to the ground. And while, nev- 

1 Roger de Wendover. 



I40 JOURNEY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN. 

ertheless, there may have been reasons for the 
assertion, still, other considerations render it 
difficult to believe that he was notoriously 
vicious. We can hardly think that the priest 
who sought him out would have chosen him as* 
the instrument of arousing the country, if he had 
won such a reputation ; the very object in view 
would have been frustrated at once, if those who 
knew him could tell his dupes that such was his 
character. It is natural to suppose that he had 
something winning about him to gain so many 
adherents of all ages and classes, and that he 
was not known to be immoral, or else he would 
scarcely have received veneration as a saint. 
The very success of his preaching therefore 
leads us to believe that he was not known to be 
particularly bad. On the other hand, if we be- 
lieve that he was duped and thought himself 
intrusted by Christ with the duty of proclaiming 
and conducting the Crusade, we would be led to 
suppose that he was piously disposed and felt 
what he uttered when he depicted the misery 
of the Christians in the Holy Land, and the 
ignominious state of the Sepulchre of the Sav- 
iour. Nothing that we know concerning his 
conduct is inconsistent with childish piety. 
The state which he assumed does not contra- 
dict such a supposition, for it would have re- 



THE JOURNEY TO MARSEILLES. I4I 

quired the years and spirit of a Peter or of a 
Bernard to have been unaffected by flattery 
and luxury, after having been accustomed to the 
lot of the poor and to the scorn and abuse which 
that class received from the nobles. 

We see in him, then, a child of twelve years 
of age, who was carried away with the belief 
that he was God's chosen leader to rescue 
Palestine, and whose unreasoning mind was 
inflated by constant respect and adulation of 
a host. He was evidently precocious and pos- 
sessed of no slight abilities, however much of 
the direction and control of the vast army 
which he led, may be attributed to older per- 
sons with whom he consulted. For although 
no reference is made to such counselors, it is 
wild to suppose that there were none, but that 
he actually chose the route, and regulated the 
march. 

So they trudge wearily along, this host of 
deluded children, led by their child prophet, 
reclining at ease in his luxurious chariot. 
Their little limbs were not used to more than 
short journeys to and from the pastures where 
they had fed their flocks, and they soon learned 
that, although glory and honor were at the end 
of the pilgrimage, fatigue and suffering inter- 
vened. The girls, and the children of gentle 



142 JOURNEY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN. 

birth, were especially unfitted to endure such 
a march, and when the first day ended, there 
were many blistered feet and tearful eyes. 

As has been said, their pathway was marked 
by much fewer hardships than those of the Ger- 
man armies, inasmuch as the country was more 
peopled, as well as because the distance to be 
traversed was much shorter. They did not 
have to sleep on rocky heights or on freezing 
moors ; they always found fields to rest in, and 
as they passed through no strange land, they 
received the sympathy of countrymen instead 
of the hostility of aliens. Consequently, as 
we shall see, their numbers were comparatively 
little affected by desertion and death. But yet 
it was not a path of roses, their journey was 
not unalloyed with trials. 

Of course a frequent source of trouble was 
scarcity of food. There was no regular provis- 
ion for its supply, and soon they were reduced 
to what they could beg. We are told that 
this was readily given, and even that money 
was furnished in many cases by the people 
who sympathized with them. But there were 
some districts which were uninhabited, and here 
they suffered from hunger and disease. 

A great deal of misery was caused by the 
great heat of this Summer, which, as we have 



THE JOURNEY TO MARSEILLES. 143 

seen, was of unusual intensity. 1 This caused 
the great drought of which we spoke when fol- 
lowing the fortunes of the other armies, and 
here, as there, it was said to be the evident 
intervention of God to dry up the sea. 

It was terrible to walk from day to day under 
a broiling sun, through fields that were parched 
and burnt, where the brooks were dry, and the 
moss on the stones was dead, where morning 
brought no freshness, and evening no dew. 
This prostrated numbers of the children, and 
their corpses lay scattered along the road for 
many a mile. 

These hardships and the influence of the un- 
worthy characters soon resulted in more or less 
complete loss of discipline and of authority. 
Want produced dissensions and developed self- 
ishness, each one being on the alert to outwit 
the others in the search for food and in en- 
deavors to keep it concealed. They then strag- 
gled on, becoming more and more a loose, con- 
gregated horde, until at last Stephen's authority 
was entirely disregarded, and it was a race for 
the sea. Their spirits had been for a while kept 
up by the impulse of the original excitement ; 
then they had sung their songs and told tales 
of adventure, and the leaders had artfully tried 

1 Lambert of Liege. 



144 JOURNEY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN. 

to make them forget fatigue in anticipation of 
the coming glory. For they had their songs 
as had the children of Germany, but they are 
all lost to us. With these they passed away 
many a monotonous hour, proclaiming their 
determination to rescue and restore to its honor 
the Sepulchre of Christ. Constantly renewed 
promises and imaginary descriptions of rest to 
be won were also effective in counteracting the 
desire to return, which their trials engendered, 
and kept together those who still persevered. 
Stephen was always wont to reply, and his lieu- 
tenants also, in answer to inquiries as to when 
the weary march would be over, that the end 
was near at hand, and that a few more days or 
hours would bring them to the sea. Their 
ignorance of geography rendered them unable 
to detect the falsehoods thus told them, and 
they were therefore repeatedly led to hope for' 
the morrow, only to be grievously disappointed 
when that morrow came. Their innocence and 
confiding credulity are vividly represented by 
the statement of an historian, 1 who says that, 
as they thought of nothing but Jerusalem, and 
day by day were told that their toils would soon 
be over, when they came in sight of a castle or 
a walled town, some of them would ask, for- 

1 Choiseul d'Aillecourt. 



THE JOURNEY TO MARSEILLES. 145 

getful of the sea which intervened, "Is that 
Jerusalem ? " Poor little pilgrims ! How often 
have children of a larger growth, as they 
labored and toiled, fancied that they beheld in 
some prospect before them the Jerusalem they 
sought ! And it reminds us also that possibly 
there was often heard among them that appeal 
which heralds in other crusading armies were 
wont to make to the weak-hearted and weary, 
who were aroused to new effort when they 
heard it : " This is not Jerusalem ! " 

They passed through Central France; cross- 
ing the Rhone, as was most usual, at Lyons, 
and then entered the kingdom of Burgundy or 
Arelate. The crusading spirit was peculiarly 
strong here, and the children received sympathy 
and aid. But nevertheless it was still a fatigu- 
ing march until they reached Provence, which 
seemed as a new world to them. This was 
the garden of all Europe. Among fields of un- 
equaled luxuriance there stood moss-covered 
ruins of ancient days, which, by their frequency 
and elegance, showed how the Romans had 
prized the region, and loved to embellish it. 

Past broken aqueducts and roofless temples, 
they wandered in a beautiful country, and began 
to forget the trials of a route through uninhab- 
ited districts and uncultivated wilds. Their 



146 JOURNEY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN. 

spirits revived, and their hopes again were 
raised. Finally they reached the last range 
of hills they had to climb, when there burst 
upon them a view which awakened in them 
emotions of astonishment and delight. Before 
them was the cool, blue sea. The crisp waves 
broke on its bosom, and clouds chased each 
other across its vast horizon, while beautiful 
islands dotted its surface here and there along 
the coast. Below them upon the shore was 
Marseilles, which, though not forming so en- 
chanting a vision as Genoa, yet astonished 
these young pilgrims, who had never seen such 
a sight before. They hurried down to its walls. 
Songs of loud accord announced their coming 
to the people of the city, and they went out to 
meet this most curious of all the many curious 
armies that had come thither in order to em- 
bark on the historic Mediterranean. 



III. 

Marseilles and the Good Merchants. 

After a long period of obscurity, Marseilles 
had at this time become again, as it had been 
centuries before, one of the chief cities on the 
shore of the Mediterranean. Since the days 
when it was able to resist so long the arms of 



MARSEILLES AND THE MERCHANTS. 1 47 

Caesar, in upholding the interests of Pompey 
there had intervened an era of poverty and of 
feebleness. It had been a part of the king- 
dom of Provence until a. d. 930, when the lat- 
ter became united to Burgundy Trans-jurane. 
In A. D. 1032, this kingdom was inherited by 
the Emperor Conrad. But, as it was a re- 
mote dependency of the Empire, the Imperial 
rule rested lightly upon it ; so lightly, indeed, 
that it was practically independent, under its 
own feudal counts, acting as a sovereign state, 
and making treaties with other powers. At 
the time of the event we are describing, it was 
still thus situated, but was on the verge of a 
revolution, for in 12 14 the citizens expelled the 
Count, and, tempted and excited by the exam- 
ples of sister cities, formed a republic, which 
flourished until 125 1, when the Count of Pro- 
vence annexed the aspiring state to his own 
dominions. The chief cause of the recovery of 
the importance and influence of Marseilles was 
the Crusades. Its harbor being so secure, for 
a Mediterranean port, it was a great point for 
shipping men and supplies in the prosecution 
of the wars in the Orient. It was thence that 
Richard I. departed in great state, and later 
still, Louis IX. was furnished by the town with 
all the ships which his vain enterprise required. 



I48 JOURNEY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN. 

During the preceding centuries, the classic 
cities of Nimes, Narbonne, and Montpellier 
had risen to be the chief places of France, and, 
nestled amid their luxuriant fields and groves, 
they had become synonymous with splendor 
and wealth. But, with the revival of commerce, 
Marseilles was destined to resume her prece- 
dence of these less ancient rivals, and already 
in 12 12 her people anticipated even surpassing 
more favored Genoa or Pisa. Stately edifices 
were being erected by her ambitious citizens, 
and in the ship-yards they were constructing 
those mighty vessels which were regarded as 
able to conquer the seas. 

Such then was Marseilles when our young 
Crusaders reached it. The distance they had 
travelled was about three hundred miles, and 
the time, nearly a month. It was therefore 
towards the middle of August when they ar- 
rived at their destination. Although they 
started later than the German children, yet 
they reached the sea at an earlier day, as their 
journey was so much shorter ; and, when they 
were resting from their fatigues, the followers 
of Nicholas and of the other leader were yet 
suffering in the Alps or in Italy. 

Many children had left the army on the way, 
and many more had succumbed to fatigue or 



MARSEILLES AND THE MERCHANTS. 149 

had been captured. Yet the diminution of 
their numbers was not to be compared with 
that experienced by the German armies. One 
authority says that the number was almost as 
great as when they left Vendome, and that 
many new adherents had joined the throng to 
take the places of those who deserted or fell by 
the way-side. Therefore it was not a worn-out 
and tattered band, counting but a fraction of its 
original size, which reached Marseilles, as had 
been that one which greeted Genoa so gladly ; 
but we see approaching the imposing number of 
at least twenty thousand children, who, though 
they had not , reached Jerusalem as soon as 
they had hoped, still had their faith in their un- 
dertaking restored by arrival at the sea-shore. 

Halting, then, by the walls, they asked for 
shelter in the city. As at Genoa, it was stated 
that temporary rest was all they needed ; that, 
as God had promised to open for them a way 
through the sea, they would ask no vessels, re- 
quire no prolonged hospitality, but that per- 
haps on the morrow they would depart. Con- 
gratulated should be the people of that city 
which was selected as the point of departure 
of those who, as the Lord's soldiers, were to 
pass in security, as Israel had done, through 
the waves which had ever been the terror of 



150 JOURNEY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN. 

powerless mariners. Whether the Massilians 
appreciated the honor or not, is another ques- 
tion. Having lived for some time by the sea- 
side, and not being credulous victims of a de- 
lusion, we may believe that they expected to 
have to make provision for some other mode 
of reaching Palestine, and did not rely much 
upon the prospect of having their city placed 
in history by the side of Pi-hahiroth and Gil- 
gal, as the scene of a miraculous control of 
the waters. On the contrary, many of the cit- 
izens were doubtless rejoiced at the chance of 
profiting by such an influx of pilgrims. The 
authorities may well have hesitated at admit- 
ting so formidable a host into the city, which 
did not even have the restraining influences of 
discipline, as was the case with older Crusad- 
ers. But there was a strong sympathy with the 
cause, and especially in view of the fact that 
the pilgrims were countrymen, did they hesitate 
to refuse to shelter them ; while, on the other 
hand, there was no political reason to awaken 
distrust or fear, and the city had too often pro- 
vided for larger armies to be exhausted by one 
like this. Accordingly, permission to tarry 
was granted, and among the" throngs of won- 
dering people, the children, with their leaders, 
their priests, and their adult companions, en- 



MARSEILLES AND THE MERCHANTS. I51 

tered the venerable gates. Their hymns were 
now sung with new earnestness, born of the 
encouragement of reaching so advanced a stage 
in their journey. Prouder than ever, they de- 
clared to the astonished beholders that they 
were to render brilliant with associations of 
victory, fields now for ages synonymous with 
defeat. The people, who had seen the hosts 
of Richard, in their manly strength and with 
their splendid accoutrements, enter the same 
gates with like high hopes twenty-two years 
before, may well have wondered at the sim- 
plicity of these youthful warriors. Some pitied 
them, as they thought of the rich harvest death 
was to reap where he had already reaped so 
many, and prayed they might be spared the 
sad fate which thousands had met who sought 
that land, the footsteps on the road to which, 
like those before the cave of the fabled mon- 
ster, all pointed but in one direction. . Others 
eagerly believed the story of divine interposi- 
tion to raise this army, and piously hoped that 
at last the object of so many toils and of so 
many prayers was to be attained. 

The children dispersed and sought lodging 
where it was to be had. The youths of noble 
birth found rest with those of their kindred or 
of their rank. Others were received into inns 



l S 2 JOURNEY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN. 

and convents and monasteries. Others still, 
tmable to find room, slept in those bed-cham- 
bers of the poor in every age — the streets. 

That night, as they saw the darkness creep 
over the earth, they went to sleep, full of hope 
that in the morning the constantly repeated 
promise of Stephen would be realized, and that 
their mission would be confirmed, as well as 
doubters refuted, by the spectacle of a way 
through the deep waters. 

The night passed away. Morning dawned, 
but its light showed a still unsevered expanse, 
presenting no path for the pilgrim's foot. The 
waves rolled and curled and broke as unre- 
strainedly as ever, and told as plainly of un- 
bridled power. Great then was the perplexity 
of the children, but nevertheless they still 
hoped that another day might be more pro- 
pitious. And they waited for that day, and 
for still another and another. But during this 
delay their numbers diminished rapidly. The 
deception of the leaders became apparent, and 
the promises which had solaced them in weary 
marches, and kept up their courage, being so 
repeatedly falsified, they began to yield to de- 
spair and disgust. The army melted away, 
some departing each morning, when the path- 
way in the sea was again found unopened. 



MARSEILLES AND THE MERCHANTS. 153 

However, there were still many who would not 
yield, but cherished the hope of reaching the 
Holy Land, and would wait longer for the ap- 
pointed passage thither. They looked wist- 
fully at the vessels in the harbor, and wished 
that, if their promised pathway were not to be 
granted, they might seek their destination on 
these. But their poverty precluded the pos- 
sibility of that, and as day by day they stood 
sadly watching the sea and yet found no re- 
alization of their hopes, even the most hopeful 
commenced to resign themselves to the belief 
that they had seen the end of a Crusade so tri- 
umphantly and so proudly begun. Throughout 
the ranks spread the determination to return, 
and in silent or in recriminating sorrow, all 
prepared for a disgraceful retracing of their 
steps. They cursed the deceivers who had led 
them thus astray, and reproached themselves 
as they thought of the taunts to be encoun- 
tered on the return, which they dreaded more 
than they prized the joy of being at home 
again. 

When in this sad plight, there came unex- 
pected relief, and their discouragement was 
changed to exultation, by an event which they 
considered a fulfilment of their hopes. 

There were in Marseilles two merchants who 



J 54 JOURNEY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN. 

drove a lucrative trade with other lands, and 
who, from their wealth, were clearly prominent 
men on the primitive " Change" of those days. 
Their names, in the French form, have not 
been -preserved ; the chroniclers tell us them 
in Latin, and they figure in history under the 
euphonious appellations of Hugo Ferreus and 
William Porcus. Undoubtedly the wits of the 
city had enjoyed many a joke upon them, but 
the conduct of the men who bore them was now 
to show these wits that a man's character is not 
to be determined by his name. For, as they 
heard the complaints and witnessed the heart- 
rending disappointment of the little Crusaders, 
they were deeply moved. They saw them go 
down by the shore and in childish eagerness 
scan the horizon, to find if there were no way 
to pass over the sea. The tears and cries of 
these weary, deluded ones, which awakened so 
much sympathy in all hearts, at last prompted 
these merchants to interfere and aid in the 
prosecution of a holy work apparently about 
to be frustrated. Accordingly, to the wonder 
and delight of all, they voluntarily offered to 
provide vessels to convey to Palestine as many 
as still desired to continue the pilgrimage. In 
their pious sympathy and interest in the de- 
filed Sepulchre, they would ask of Christ's sol- 



MARSEILLES AND THE MERCHANTS. 1 55 

diers no money for their passage. They wished 
to do the deed, said they, Causa Dei, absque pre- 
tio, " for the cause of God, and without price." 
All the reward they desired was the conscious- 
ness of duty done, the prayers of the child- 
warriors of God, and the honor of aiding in 
the final and successful effort to rescue sacred 
places from unholy rulers. What better gain 
could they ask than the fame of being the great 
benefactors of those who were to place the 
Cross above the insulting Crescent? 

Great was the rejoicing now ! Stephen and 
his lieutenant prophets triumphantly proclaimed 
that their predictions were verified, and taunted 
the lack of faith of the discouraged. "This," 
said they, "was the vindication of their pro- 
phetic character ! This was the way through 
the sea which God had meant ! Was it not a 
miracle ? Was it not a fulfilment of his prom- 
ise that they would find a path across the deep 
waters ? All other Crusaders and all other pil- 
grims had been obliged to pay heavily for their 
conveyance to Palestine, yet it was to cost them 
nothing ! What better evidence of God's sanc- 
tion and aid could there be than this, that an 
obstacle, so insurmountable to others, had been 
removed for them ? " 

There were those, however, who did not 



156 JOURNEY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN. 

yield to the newly awakened enthusiasm. They 
had learned to dread the sea, from the many 
adventures of peril of which they had heard 
during the previous Crusades, and while they 
would have readily marched upon its bed, they 
feared to sail upon its surface. They gazed on 
its unbounded expanse, and its vastness awed 
them. They had seen vessels come into port, 
rolling from side to side, and dashing the spray 
from their bows, and there was no charm for 
them in the idea of trusting themselves to its 
treacherous power. But there were many others 
who were willing to brave all this if they could 
only reach Jerusalem. The Lord, who sent the 
vessels, could guide and guard them. Their 
vows, their Crosses on their breasts, their prom- 
ises, and their pride, made these resolve to per- 
severe and seek the sacred shores. 

Accordingly, all who were willing to em- 
brace the offer of the merchants reported 
themselves, and it was ascertained that seven 
vessels would be required for their transporta- 
tion. From this we may, in connection with 
other data, conjecture how many they num- 
bered. We find, for instance, that in the ex- 
pedition of Saint Louis, there were seven hun- 
dred on each ship, and we cannot be far wrong 
in supposing that the merchants would at 



THE JOURNEY TO MARSEILLES. 1$? 

least allot as . many children to each of their 
vessels. There would be then, we conclude, 
nearly five thousand to be provided for by 
these kind-hearted men. So we are reasona- 
bly led to believe that this, or one sixth of the 
original host which left Vendome, was the num- 
ber of those who expressed their readiness, after 
so many discouragements, to embark upon the 
sea. Among them, as we shall see in the sequel, 
were many adults, priests, and other ecclesias- 
tics, who really may never have expected to 
cross the Mediterranean in any other way, and 
to whom the perils of navigation were not un- 
anticipated. 

We now see the enterprising and benevolent 
merchants preparing their vessels for the de- 
parture of the earnest little Crusaders, who 
would not return unless they came as deliver- 
ers of the Sepulchre. The inhabitants of 
Marseilles were proud of their townsmen's 
liberality, and of the fact that they possessed 
citizens able to afford so munificent a ben- 
efaction. Their praises were on every lip, and 
the people lent their lively interest in behalf of 
an enterprise which, once so apparently vain, 
now promised such success. 



I5 8 JOURNEY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN, 

IV. 

The Embarkation. 

When we look through the chronicles of the 
days to which our story carries us, we are en- 
tertained by the many and quaint names by 
which the different kinds of vessels were dis- 
tinguished. We read enthusiastic accounts of 
the grace, the elegance, and speed of their gal- 
leys, designed both to convey passengers and 
also for purposes of war. Those of similar style 
but of smaller size, were galleons, employed for 
light work, and for skirmishing. We then read 
of busses, or buzas, which were used chiefly 
for commerce, and were consequently more 
clumsy, while the simple-hearted old writers 
who in their cloistered homes had never seen 
such things, descant with wonder on the gigan- 
tic dromons, the largest barks that ploughed the 
sea, and whose mention suggested wealth that 
astonished the landsman and made the pirate 
sleepless. And some, with a superabundance 
of nautical lore, probably to show that knowl- 
edge, dilate upon the speed and the size, the 
mishaps and adventures of gulafres, cats, and 
other undescribed triumphs of human inge- 
nuity. The language which is employed by 
Richard of Devizes, or Geoffrey de Vinsauf, 



THE EMBARKATION. 159 

or Joinville, concerning the ships which bore 
Richard I. and Louis IX. across the waters, 
would lead us to picture these heroes as sailing 
on vessels like those which astonish us to-day. 
In the light of modern achievements in the con- 
struction of vessels, it sounds rather amusing to 
hear the qualifications " gigantic," " towering," 
" mighty," applied to boats of two hundred, or, 
at the most, three hundred tons. It was not 
until the emergencies of later ages, and the 
development of the arts and sciences, that 
larger hulks were built. At this time a great 
change was taking place in navigation. The 
use of oars was being discarded, and vessels 
were made to be propelled entirely by the 
wind. Some of the " dromons " are said, won- 
derful to relate, to have had three masts ! 
There were no graceful stems which divided 
the waters like knives. The waves were pushed 
aside by broad bows, which presented tempting 
expanses for those waves to retaliate by buffet- 
ings. Instead of delicate sterns, whose graceful 
curves would scarcely cause a perceptible wake, 
angular, clumsy surfaces sustained a lofty and 
perilous poop, and the entire form of the struc- 
ture was eminently adapted to unlimited rolling 
and pitching, evidence of which is furnished by 
the constantly narrated miseries of voyagers. 



l6o JOURNEY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN. 

As regards the vessels provided by the mer- 
chants, the rate at which they travelled, as we 
shall subsequently see, shows that they were 
propelled by sails. But whether the seven 
ships, which in the port of Marseilles awaited 
their precious burdens, were gulafres, or gal- 
leys, or cats, or dromons, or buzas, to those 
who were accustomed only to the barks which 
floated on the Seine or the Loire or the Rhone, 
they seemed immense monsters, and reassured 
the hearts of the little ones, by their evident 
ability to conquer the deep, and brave in safety 
perils of wind, of water, or of reef. 

At last the preparations were all completed, 
and the day dawned when the young heroes 
were to leave -their native shores and seek those 
whither had gone so many other hosts, as full 
of hope, to find only misery and death. 1 The 
sun, as it gilded with its first rays the hills 
around the city, called from sleepless couches 
the excited and anxious children, who to-day 
were to become real Crusaders, and, like other 
brave heroes, to sail out upon the sea. They 
passed the necessary time in religious prepar- 
ation, thronging the churches to receive bless- 
ings and absolutions, and then sought the water's 

1 For ceremonies attending embarkation, see Joinville and 
other crusading chroniclers. 



THE EMBARKATION. l6l 

edge to await embarkation. Very striking must 
the spectacle have been, when in that land- 
locked bay the vessels were waiting with flags 
flying, and when along the shore, the citizens, 
attracted by the interest and novelty of the 
event, crowded to behold the scene. The 
gaudy colors of the banners and of the dresses 
of the groups upon the beach, blended with 
the golden tints in which the- fronts of the 
quaint old houses were bathed, and with the 
blue water and the azure sky, made a picture 
on which imagination fondly dwells. 

It was natural for the people to contrast the 
embarkation of these Crusaders with the last 
departure of an army from that port, bound on 
a similar enterprise. It had occurred twenty- 
two years before, when, in 1190, Richard I. of 
England had sailed from thence to Messina, 
where he was to meet Philip of France, from 
which place they proceeded together to Pales- 
tine. That had been a notable sight. There 
were "one hundred and fourteen vessels of 
great magnitude," and at the masthead of each 
flew the ensign of England's king. The his- 
torian, sober Richard of Devizes, a credulous 
and honest old soul, tells us that " there was 
on each ship double of whatever a ship could 
want, except the mast and the ship's boat ; a 



1 62 JOURNEY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN. 

fleet wonderful for its numbers, complement, 
and the splendor of its array, and the like of 
which none was ever seen, fitted out with such 
labor, and so numerous." But now the Massil- 
ians saw a few thousand children about to em- 
bark on seven vessels, with no king or prince to 
lead them, no bright armor or glittering lances, 
no flag that told of victories, but, nevertheless, 
as confident and as hopeful as the warriors who 
had preceded them on the pathway to Pales- 
tine. How many were there in that crowd of 
observers who foresaw the certain issue of this 
enterprise ! They had seen the army of Rich- 
ard depart, but to perish, and they judged well 
that where those heroes had fallen, these chil- 
dren would not succeed. It may be that some 
were present who had been beyond the seas, 
and knew by bitter experience the perils o£ the 
deep and the character of the Moslem enemy, 
and they shuddered at the vision which was 
conjured up as they thought of so many chil- 
dren falling into the power of those heathen. 

The embarkation proceeded. Entering into 
skiffs, the youths were borne to the vessels 
amidst the sad farewells of friends who loved 
them, and of companions who feared to con- 
tinue the undertaking, which they had vowed 
to complete ere they knew its dangers, as well 



THE EMBARKATION. 1 63 

as amidst the cheers of the enthusiastic and of 
the sympathizing. Steeling their little hearts 
against discouragement and dread, they left 
the shore in companies, until the last one had 
stepped from the soil of France. When the 
ships were full, the ports were closed, through 
which they had entered, and they within, as 
well as those on the beach, were reminded that 
there was now no withdrawing, no retreat. 

The ceremonies attending setting sail were 
solemn, because in those times it was a serious 
thing to commence a voyage over the sea, and 
the nature of the enterprise made religious rites 
appropriate and customary. 

The captains examined all parts of the ships 
to make certain that they were in proper order 
for such a dangerous voyage. As one says, 
" The ports were stopped up as close as a large 
tun of wine." The sailors were stationed at 
their respective posts ; the anchor chains were 
loosened, ready to release the vessels in a mo- 
ment, and the ropes held in hand. All being 
thus prepared, silence ensued for a brief space 
of time. Then upon the elevated " castle " or 
stern of each ship, the assembled priests, in 
sweet accord, commenced to chant that dear 
old hymn, sacred with the associations of cen- 
turies, " Veni Creator Spiritus." As these 



164 JOURNEY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN 

words, which the Church in all ages has used 
on holy occasions, were begun by those on the 
-foremost vessel, the sound floated to the next, 
where it was taken up, and then the next con- 
tinued it, so that soon, from all the ships rose 
the solemn, prayerful chant, in which the strong 
voices of manhood blended with the silvery 
tones of children, and formed a harmony that 
was wafted away to the hills by the willing 
breeze. 1 

While this hymn was still sounding on the 
air, and the hearts of all were full of contending 
emotions, "the sailors set their sails in the 
name of God." The white wings filled at once 
and sought to set the vessels free. Another 
moment of pause and then, at a common signal, 
the anchors were raised from their rocky beds. 
The ships began to move. With none of the 
noisy circumstances of these days of steamers, 
but silently gliding, they sought the mouth of 
the harbor, without interrupting the music, 
which still rose on the air. In quiet stateliness, 
they passed beneath the lofty rock of Notre 
Dame de la Garde, from which looked down on 
them, as it does to-day, the Chapel of the Sail- 
ors, and immediately the crisp waves and the 

1 This hymn was always sung on such occasions. Vide 
Joiuville. 



THE EMBARKATION. 1 65 

lresh breeze and the boundless horizon told the 
little voyagers that they were at sea ! 

The crowds sought the cliffs that they might 
watch the seven vessels until they disappeared. 
How eagerly did they look who had once been 
numbered with the army ! As now they saw 
the ships bounding gladly over the waters, the 
sails bellying with the health-giving wind, and 
the oriflammes and banners waving so brilliant- 
ly, and as they heard the shouts of exultation 
and the songs of triumph which their former 
companions uttered, more than one regretted 
his retreat, and would gladly have rejoined 
the band that seemed really destined to win 
fame and honor. But they sadly felt that it 
was too late, and that now they must commence 
again the weary and tedious march back to 
their distant and inglorious homes, where they 
would have to bear the shame of hearing tidings 
of the progress of an enterprise from which 
they had cravenly withdrawn. 

Behold then the citizens and the timid chil- 
dren watching the receding ships. Soon the 
songs grow indistinct, as they come over the 
water — then they become inaudible. After 
that the flags and banners still tell of hope and 
of joy, until their colors are invisible. The day 
draws to its close, and when, upon the blue hills 



1 66 JOURNEY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN 

of the east there fall the bright rays of the set- 
ting sun, the ships which bear the precious 
burdens are far away, and seem as seven white 
birds nestling on the deep for the slumber of 
night. Then over all creeps the twilight, and 
the watchers on the shore return to the city, 
casting a longing look after the pilgrims, as they 
had often done before, after other and older 
ones. 

Darkness then comes on, and in its sable 
folds covers the land and the sea, and envelops 
the seven ships that were sailing away with the 
five thousand little pilgrims to seek the land of 
Israel. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

THE TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA. 



The Long Suspense. 

When the seven ships sailed away into that 
August night they were not heard of again for 
eighteen long years. 

After that several months had elapsed and 
the time had come when tidings of their arri- 
val in Palestine should reach France, each re- 
turning Crusader, or pilgrim, or merchant, was 
asked if he had any news of the children who 
had embarked to seek the Holy Land. To all 
these inquiries the reply was given that no such 
fleet had been heard of in any port. As weeks 
passed by, the anxiety increased, and every 
ship was eagerly expected to bring the news, 
but yet none could give the hoped-for answer. 
Still the anxious trusted that the delay was due 
to contrary winds, or to the children having dis- 
embarked in Sicily or Rhodes to rest, and that 
they would yet laugh at their fears, when some 



1 68 TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA. 

welcome bark brought the story of arrival and 
of victory. A year passed away, and another, 
until all hope died, and they who had treasures 
on the missing vessels resigned themselves to 
the belief that beneath the waters their dear 
ones lay, overwhelmed in some disastrous 
storm. 

The succeeding years were stirring ones. 
The strife between Otho and Frederick for the 
crown of Germany was ended by the triumph 
of the latter, who began his splendid reign in 
his southern home at Naples, where he gath- 
ered the most elegant court which had yet been 
seen in Europe. But Innocent, who had raised 
him, found that he could not rule him ; and, after 
years of strife, he had to compromise with him 
at last in 1230. In England, the misfortunes 
of John continued. His barons made him sign 
the Magna Charta in 12 15, and then Innocent, 
with whose claims this document conflicted, 
found himself obliged to turn and uphold the 
King whom he had so lately sought to crush, 
in order that John might be able to break loose 
from the engagement. Thus, beaten about by 
the Pope and his subjects, the poor man died, 
broken-hearted. Henry III. ascended the 
throne, and his reign, during the period with 
which we are concerned, was peaceful. 



THE LONG SUSPENSE. 1 69 

But above all was Europe excited by the 
resuscitation of interest- in the Crusades. Inno- 
cent, finding his previous measures vain, had 
summoned the Lateran Council in order to 
awaken the Church to its duty. At this great 
assembly from all 'parts of Christendom, the 
Pontiff urged in plaintive or in threatening 
tones, as suited him, the sorrowful condition of 
the Christians in Palestine, and the hopeless 
state of the cause. He appealed to them to 
avenge the slain, to put an end to the sufferings 
of those pining in prisons, or in slavery, and 
to deliver the holy places, now weeping under 
the footsteps of the heathen. His endeavors 
succeeded. The Council granted him all the 
aid he asked, passed the measures he proposed, 
and the Sixth Crusade was ordered. It was so 
diligently and effectually preached that, in 12 17, 
the largest army was gathered which had ever 
taken the Cross, and, under Andrew, King of 
Hungary, departed from Spalatro and Brundu- 
sium. The peculiar feature of this Crusade 
was, that, while the interest in the cause was 
less than usual among the nobility, among the 
people it was greater, and they rushed to en- 
list, indignant at the apathy of their superiors. 
The fleets reached Ptolemais in safety, and were 
welcomed as liberating angels by the belea- 



170 TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA. 

guered Christians. Hopes long dormant were 
revived, and again was it expected that the 
King of Jerusalem would, from his throne in 
that city, rule the redeemed land. But these 
hopes were soon to be dashed by the weak 
conduct of Andrew, who became discouraged 
in the hour of success and returned to Europe 
with half of his troops. As trophies, he took 
with him the head of Peter, the right hand of 
Thomas, and one of the seven " water-pots " in 
which the wine was made at Cana. This treas- 
ure comforted him, and, as he said, rewarded 
his trust in its efficacy, for at once a dangerous 
conspiracy was suppressed, when he reached 
his dominions with these relics. Yet, as other 
bands of Crusaders from the northern parts of 
Europe arrived afterwards, the armies in Pales- 
tine were still formidable. At this time, how- 
ever, the resolve was made to seek a new road 
to Jerusalem by breaking the Mohammedan 
power in another quarter. Accordingly, they 
all embarked for Egypt, and in April, 1218, 
after a siege of several months, had gained 
only part of the defenses of Damietta, when 
the most of the army, weary and discouraged 
by the desperate resistance which they met, 
returned home with no fruits of their valor. 
But others who came from Southern Europe as 



THE LONG SUSPENSE. 171 

these departed, maintained the siege for a year 
and a half, enduring all forms of suffering. At 
last, finding that no beleaguering could starve 
the defenders into a surrender, an assault was 
ordered, when to the horror of the Christians, 
they found defenseless walls around a deserted 
city. Of the' seventy thousand Moslems who 
had entered there to uphold their cause, only 
three thousand remained, who looked more like 
spectres than men. This was one of the most 
brilliant crises of the Crusades. The Moham- 
medans now offered full possession of the Holy 
Land, if the Christians would abandon Egypt. 
But in the flush of victory these terms were 
foolishly rejected, and they demanded the wealth 
of the latter to minister to the glory of the for- 
mer. The Saracens refused to yield any more, 
and renewed the war, the result of which was 
that soon they were so victorious that the deci- 
mated and famished Crusaders were glad to ask 
permission to embark and return to Europe. 

After an interval of several years, Frederick 
of Germany at last undertook his long contem- 
plated Crusade. He had made the promise to 
the Pope, but now being under excommunica- 
tion, was forbidden to carry it out, and actually 
had to encounter a prohibition addressed to all 
the world against aiding him. But he persisted 



172 TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA. 

and gained splendid success. Within a year 
he had so humbled the Sultan that a treaty was 
granted, by which a truce of ten years was de- 
clared, and the possession of Jerusalem freely 
made over to the Christians. The Emperor 
signalized his triumph there by his coronation. 
The affairs of his dominions calling him home, 
the Christians were left in 1229 by this, the 
most romantic of the Crusades, dwelling se- 
curely again in the city which had been the 
object of so many prayers, so many tears, and 
so many wars. 

These were the events which intervened be- 
tween the departure of the army of children 
from Marseilles, and the date at which we 
again take up the thread of their story. 

During all these vicissitudes, and the attend- 
ant excitement throughout Europe, the events 
of 1212 grew remote, and the children were 
forgotten by the nations who had seen and suf- 
fered so much in the interval. Yet they were 
not forgotten by all, for that strange Crusade 
was ever in the minds of many a noble and of 
many a peasant of France. 

They who had been members of the army of 
Stephen, but who had returned from Mar- 
seilles, did not forget their companions, whose 
fate was involved in obscurity. As had been 



THE LONG SUSPENSE. 1 73 

the case with the Germans, they were held to 
their vows by the Pope, and commanded to re- 
deem their promise to fight for the sacred 
cause when they reached maturer years ; only 
those were exempted who were too young to 
comprehend the nature of a vow, or too aged to 
be of any service in the army. Many- of these 
were in the ranks which fought at Damietta 
and fell there, or returned wiser men. When 
they had abandoned the enterprise at Mar- 
seilles, they regretted for a while that they had 
not possessed enough endurance to persevere. 
But as time flew by, and no tidings came of 
glory, nor even of the fate of those who had 
sailed on the seven vessels, and as the different 
ways in which they might have perished were 
considered, they rejoiced at their return and 
compassionated those whom they once had 
envied. 

And the five thousand were also remembered 
by many a stricken household, and many a tear 
was called forth by the recollection of their 
departure. As long as there was any chance, 
hope lingered, but, when year after year had 
passed away, and there had come no tidings, 
it vanished, and all hearts yielded to the con- 
viction that the bed of the sea had become the 
unknelled and uncofrmed sepulchre of those 



174 TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA. 

who had expected to make it their triumphant 
pathway. The people of Marseilles remem- 
bered too the seven vessels that had departed 
from their port with their novel burdens, but 
that had never reached their destination, and 
they were wont to speak of and muse upon 
the mystery of their fate. Porcus and Ferreus 
were objects of sympathy, it may be, for their 
disinterestedness, which had cost them so 
much. But they asked no reward or sympathy 
when so great a calamity as the destruction of 
the children overshadowed their lesser misfor- 
tune. 

During the progress of the Crusades which 
had occurred since 12 12, it was natural to sup- 
pose that those expeditions would lead to a 
solution of the mystery, and efforts were prob- 
ably made by them to ascertain the fate of the 
children. But all was in vain. Victory was 
enjoyed and defeat experienced, but no light 
was shed upon the sad question. 

Eighteen years thus passed without any 
tidings from beyond the sea, or any clue as to 
the fate of the five thousand children. The 
day of judgment alone, it was believed, would 
raise the veil from the sad mystery. 

The year 1230 had come, and the cloud 



THE DEPARTURE FROM MARSEILLES. 175 

which enveloped the strange story was as dark 
as ever, when one day an aged priest arrived 
in Europe who said that he was one of those 
who had sailed from Marseilles in 12 12, and 
that he was able to tell the result of the enter- 
prise. The news spread through France and 
Germany, and all hearts were thrilled, as from 
home to home the report flew that the long- 
mourned little ones had been heard from, that 
one of their company had returned. Let us 
now take up the narrative where we dropped it, 
and continue it, as related by the priest, whose 
tale is preserved by several chroniclers, but 
principally by one old monk who dwelt in 
Liege. 1 



II. 

The Departure from Marseilles. 

If they who, from the mouth of the harbor, 
watched the receding vessels on that day of 
parting, had strange thoughts passing through 
their minds, more peculiar were the emotions 
experienced by those who, sailing out upon the 
great and mysterious deep, saw the land becom- 
ing hourly more remote and more indistinct. 

1 The priest's story is preserved by Albericus, the Magnum 
Chron. Belgicum, Roger Bacon, and T/iomas de Chaynpre. 



176 TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA. 

At first, the flush of hope drew shouts and 
songs from all, but soon more than one face 
was wet with tears, as they realized that strange 
and sorrowful vicissitudes might have to be en- 
countered before they should again greet those 
retreating shores. They felt that they might 
yet have to share the captivity and death of 
those whom they had enlisted to avenge. The 
leaders sought diligently to banish all such 
gloomy thoughts, by promises of glory and 
reminding them -of God's evident favor. They 
spoke of a brief and pleasant voyage over the 
beautiful sea, by many a lovely island on which 
all fruits grew, to the land made sacred by the 
memories of Jesus and of Mary, and where they 
were to reap the honors which kings and no- 
bles and mailed men . had failed to win. This 
may have succeeded for a while, but as the day 
advanced, the children could not be kept from 
despondent musings on the perils of the sea. 
The terrors associated with it in those days of 
superstition and of ignorance, cannot be appre- 
ciated by us, in whose time it seems so nearly 
conquered. Each pilgrim, or sailor, or Cru- 
sader who crossed it, brought home many won- 
derful .stories, which were readily believed by 
the credulous, and all were credulous then. 
Priest and layman, noble and peasant, lived 



THE DEPARTURE FROM MARSEILLES. 177 

equally under a craven fear of the supernatural 
By those whose minds were so full of fables, 
the ordinary phenomena of nature were trans- 
formed into miracles of God, or wonders of 
Satan, and every voyage added to the stock 
of tales which were current as to the terrors of 
the deep. The chronicles of mediaeval times 
are full of them, when they refer to the sea at 
all. One writer tells us that " in that part of 
the Mediterranean which lies by the coast of 
Africa, the water is always boiling, on account 
of the great heat, and that consequently there 
are no fishes," of course implying that naviga- 
tion is not pleasant there. Another tells us 
that in some parts of the same coast "the sea 
is higher than the land, and it seemeth that it 
would cover the earth, and yet it passeth not 
its bounds. And in this land, whoso turneth 
himself toward the East, the shadow of himself 
is on the right side, and here in our country 
the shadow is on the left side." The peculiar 
reason for assigning these strange features to 
the coast of Africa was, that, owing to dread of 
the Mohammedans who peopled it, the Chris- 
tian sailors dared not approach it, and where 
they could not discover by investigation, imagi- 
nation was always busy in filling up the un- 
known regions, very much as human nature is 
prone to do, even now. 

f 12 



I7 8 TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA. 

Another traveller tells us of " a great, round 
mountain" which they met with at sea one 
Saturday at vesper time. Having passed it, 
they made all sail during the night, and as 
their fancy peopled it with " griffons," Saracens, 
and other disagreeable inhabitants, they desired 
to leave it behind as rapidly as possible. But 
in the morning, when they supposed it "fifty 
leagues astern," they were dismayed at behold- 
ing it fearfully near. In terror lest the dwell- 
ers on this remarkable island should capture 
them and put them to death, at the recom- 
mendation of * ' a discreet churchman," the pas- 
sengers sought, by religious ceremonies, to dis- 
solve the spell which either kept the vessel still, 
or else drew the mountain after it. Proces- 
sions with litanies were made around the masts 
of the ship, and soon, to their joy, it receded 
rapidly. The narrator, in simplicity, and ap- 
parently to shift the responsibility for the story, 
adds that during this time he was below, ter- 
ribly sea-sick. The phenomenon of the Fata 
Morgana was not understood, and very natu- 
rally plays a prominent part among the wonders 
of the sea. Pilgrims often tell us of its freaks. 
They say that before them they would see a 
beautiful expanse, with gardens and groves, 
among which were stately edifices and dazzling 



THE DEPARTURE FROM MARSEILLES. 1 79 

palaces, forming a scene of rare luxuriance, all 
resting upon the waters, and fading away on 
either side into nothingness. In wonder the 
mariners would sail towards the shore, and when 
it seemed that their course was about to lie 
through fields and flowers, all would vanish in 
a twinkling, leaving the unrelieved waste of 
waters. 

In consequence of such stories, the real perils 
were those the least dreaded. Saints could not 
be relied on against such things as phantom 
ships, and mighty spirits which appeared in the 
storm, or against ravishing sights and sounds 
which treacherously led the unwary to the hid- 
den reefs, or "single waves of towering size," 
that were sometimes to be seen rolling alone 
over the sea, or winds that often lifted vessels 
out of the water. Yet the people also feared 
the ordinary dangers of the deep, and with 
reason. The vessels were comparatively frail ; 
they were scarcely manageable in a storm, and 
navigation was little understood. Hardly a 
fleet is reported to have crossed the Mediterra- 
nean without a large part of the ships being lost 
in one way or another, and rarely were any of 
the passengers or of the crew rescued, because 
there were no proper means to that end. 

Ail these and other dangers were, of course, 



I So TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA. 

familiar by report to the children whose for- 
tunes we are following, and an excited memory 
brought them up as the hills of France grew 
indistinct and the twilight came on. Wistfully 
did they watch the coast, until no longer dis- 
cernible, and as darkness descended there were 
many hearts which regretted the decision to 
persevere in the Crusade. But even the most 
anxious became weary, and eyes which had 
been strained to peer through the dimness 
were tired, and readily closed in sleep. Side 
by side, the seven vessels sailed through the 
night before the favoring breeze, gently rising 
and falling on the billows, while their living 
cargoes, slumbering within them, forgot, in the 
pleasures of dream-land, their regrets and their 
fears. 

The morning came and found the ships 
making good progress on their course, with 
the dark and rocky coast of Corsica in the 
distance on their left hand. This day closed, 
and the second evening after their departure 
the vessels were sailing by the southern ex- 
tremity of that rugged island. A few more 
such days, said the little ones, and we will 
reach the Holy Land. Alas ! they knew not 
what the morrow was to reveal ! 



SHIPWRECK ON THE ISLE OF FALCONS. l8l 



III. 

The Shiptvreck on the Isle of Falcons, or San Piet?-o, 

Clustered around the southwestern extrem- 
ity of the Island of Sardinia, lies a group of 
smaller islands, which were well known to the 
ancients, as they lay in the much travelled route 
between Gaul and Greece, Italy, or Egypt. As 
adventurous Greeks had passed them, far back 
in the twilight of history, they noticed that the 
largest and the most westward of them was 
frequented by flocks of falcons. In view of this 
they gave it the name of Hierakon, which in 
later times was translated into the Latin equiv- 
alent, Accipitrum, both meaning the Island 
of Falcons. When this latter language had 
passed away, and Italian had taken its place, we 
find that the name it bore was San Pietro, by 
which it is still called. It is probable, as has 
been suggested, that this was a mere corrup- 
tion of the Latin, for the words resemble each 
other in sound, and the former designation 
could easily glide into the latter, especially 
among those who loved to call all places after 
saints, and to whom such an opportunity to 
honor Peter was too good to be lost. 

This island, two or three miles long, termi- 



1 82 TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA. 

nates to the northward in an abrupt and high 
cliff. Thence it slopes away to the southward, 
and ends in a plain that inclines gently to the 
sea. Its surface being barren and destitute of 
fresh water, it has not been inhabited, until 
recently, except that, in Summer, fishermen 
made it their temporary place of sojourn, while 
they caught the tunnies which abound in the 
surrounding waters. But they only enlivened 
the scene for a few weeks, and, after that, the 
ashes of their fires alone remained to tell that 
man had trodden its silent shores. 

Yet, in the long history of the island, it had 
known a brief period when it was not entirely 
uninhabited. In days which are remote and un 
recorded, some man, disgusted with the world, 
had made there his abode. He did not dwell 
actually on the main island, but upon a smaller 
one which is severed from it by a chasm, — a 
mere rock in comparison, — but which, seen 
from certain directions, seems as one with it. 
It may be that he fled hither from the scenes 
of pillage which were witnessed when the 
northern barbarians overran Italy, or that, 
when religion had sunk as low as the once 
proud city of Caesar had fallen, his heart longed 
for purer associations, and deliverance from 
scenes of temptation and of hypocrisy. What- 



SHIPWRECK ON THE ISLE OF FALCONS. 1 83 

ever it was that impelled this unnamed man, he 
knew that only in solitude could he worship 
God in freedom, — only in some remote spot 
could he escape the miseries of the age. And 
it may have been that, as he had, on some jour- 
ney, been musing on this longing of his heart, 
he passed by this lonely isle, whose solitude 
and beauty met his desires, so that he chose it 
as his home, and fixed on the small islet by its 
side for the erection of his hut. 

There through the years he dwelt, and from 
the high cliffs, where the fresh winds brought 
exhilaration and associations of purity, he looked 
forth over the magnificent waters to where they 
met the sky, and found food for ceaseless medi- 
tation in contemplating their ever varying ap- 
pearance. When the storm was abroad he 
watched its fury, and then, when it was subdued, 
he beheld the foam-streaked waves settle to 
rest again beneath the returned sunlight. And 
from scenes like these, his thoughts wandered 
forth to that land beyond the sunset and be- 
yond the clouds, where weary mortals rest, and 
of which he read, in the vision of Patmos, which 
was congenial to him, written by another exile 
on a lonely rock, that " there shall be no more 
sea." When, day by day, the vessels passed 
in the offing to and from the busy marts of 



1 84 TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA. 

commerce, he thought of the life he had left, 
of which they were suggestive reminders, not to 
wish he were again in its scenes, but to rejoice 
that he was free from its cares, its perils, and its 
sins. The fishermen, as they came each Sum- 
mer, used to see him standing by his little hut, 
or sitting on some rocky eminence, and they 
returned to tell strange stories of the solitary 
inhabitant of that barren island, while he found 
pleasure in listening to their melodious songs, 
which were borne to his ears as they dried 
their nets on the shore. Time rolled on ; the 
seasons came and went until he died in his 
loneliness, and the waters he had learned to 
love, sounded a dirge around his desolate sep- 
ulchre. When the next Summer arrived, the 
returning fishermen missed him in his accus- 
tomed places, and they knew that on some 
wild, cold day of Winter, the mysterious re- 
cluse had gone away from the world which had 
afforded him so unenviable a home. 

And thus he came and passed away, but the 
place of his dwelling was remembered and his 
story perpetuated, for fishermen were wont to 
point out to their comrades from age to age 
the Hermit's Rock, lying beneath the cliffs 
of San Pietro. 

When last we saw the children on the seven 



SHIPWRECK ON THE ISLE OF FALCONS. 1 85 

ships, the second evening of their voyage was 
approaching, and they were about passing from 
the coast of Corsica to that of Sardinia. The 
night passed away, and when the morning 
came, they saw, on their left hand, the moun- 
tains and bays of the latter island. Their prog- 
ress had therefore been so rapid that all au- 
gured well for a speedy passage to Palestine. 
But that day was to blight their hopes. For a 
storm arose, and in its power tossed the vessels 
about like toys, bringing to the children's hearts 
dismay and misery. As the hours elapsed, 
their sufferings and terror increased, for, as we 
have seen, the primitive build of the ships and 
the undeveloped state of navigation, rendered 
a tempest a fearful thing, beyond what we can 
now appreciate. Huddled together below the 

decks, the little Crusaders heard the waves strike 

n 

blows upon the frad planks, which threatened 
each moment to yield, and they were thrown 
from side to side as the vessels pitched and 
rolled. Whatever elation they may have felt at 
the prospect of reaching the goal of their en- 
terprise, now died away, and their fears, their 
sickness, and their bruises drew forth ejacula- 
tions of distress and prayers for mercy, which 
were smothered by the roaring winds ere they 
had wandered far from the staggering barks. 



1 86 TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA. 

The scene on each vessel may easily be im- 
agined, where several hundred children were 
crowded, expecting momentarily to be engulfed 
in the sea. The priests who had accompanied 
them, if they sought to administer consolation, 
told of the promise of the Church that they 
who died in the cause of the Cross should 
enter at once upon eternal blessedness, and be 
sure of a complete forgiveness ; that they 
might meet their death in the storm or in the 
battle : either was, for such as they, a portal 
opening directly into Paradise. They said 
that, in that world of bliss, they might stand 
side by side with the heroes who had fallen 
on the blood-stained fields of Palestine, though 
their feet had never trodden those plains. 
But words were vain to these terrified children. 
They dreaded death in the angry sea. At 
length, as the unmanageable ships drove on, 
they came in sight of the island of San Pietro, 
looming up before them in the mist. Here 
was a faint hope ! If they could weather that 
point, before them was an open sea where 
they could run before the wind, with no fear 
i>f reefs or rocks. The vessels had become 
scattered in the storm, and it was evident that 
some of them could avoid the island, while 
others were too far to leeward. How anxiously 



SHIPWRECK ON THE ISLE OF FALCONS. 1 87 

did they see the island become nearer and 
nearer ! It soon became manifest that at least 
two of the ships were doomed, — that they 
were irresistibly driving toward the great white 
breakers, which seemed exulting at the prospect 
of the fair prey that they were soon to grasp 
and to dash to pieces in their remorseless 
sport. The minutes passed in awful suspense. 
Those. on the five vessels which were to escape 
beheld with anguish the approaching fate of 
their comrades. Swiftly they drifted on to- 
wards their dreadful end. At last they were 
close to that rock which was washed by the 
spray, beneath the high cliffs of San Pietro, and 
over which the falcons hovered and screamed. 
There was a moment of pause between the 
final billows. That moment passed, and the 
next wave tossed them among the breakers. 
The shrieks and prayers of the perishing rose 
in agony on the air. Wave after wave washed 
them off the decks. A few more blows broke 
the hulks in pieces, and then all cries were 
silenced in the waters. 

When the storm had ended and the darkness 
had gone, the returning sunlight fell on broken 
timbers and splintered spars, and beheld the 
subsiding seas tossing to and fro among the 
wet rocks the pale and mangled corpses of 
more than a thousand children. 



1 88 TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA. 

And so, in the twelve hundred and twelfth 
year of grace, were two ships, laden with fair 
and hopeful youths of France, who had taken 
the Cross under the guidance of Stephen, 
wrecked in a wild storm at the foot of the 
Hermit's Rock. 



IV. 
The Captives of Bujeiah. 

About one hundred miles east of the city of 
Algiers, the sailor finds the best harbor on the 
Mediterranean coast of Africa, where in case 
of storm he may have that safe and pleasant 
anchorage which Alexandria and others more 
famous cannot provide. It runs obliquely into 
the land, and the winds and waves of the sea 
are shut out by an elevated, narrow promon- 
tory, which forms a splendid breakwater of a 
mile in length, in the lee of which there is 
always a calm. And as the mariner lies there 
at anchor, waiting for the tempest without to 
cease, he is struck by the picturesque beauty 
of the scenery around him. To the south and 
westward rise lofty mountains, one behind an- 
other, until lost in the distance, and they are 
of so great an altitude that snow rests on therta 
until June, although the climate is tropical. 



THE CAPTIVES uF BUJEIAII. 1 89 

Their slopes, and the valleys between, are cov 
ered with luxuriant groves of cypress and fig- 
trees, chestnuts and olives, while down to the 
shore come yellow fields of barley, and arbors 
laden with purple grapes. In the corner, where 
the promontory juts out from the main-land, 
looking across the gulf toward the mountains, 
extensive and ancient walls inclose a vast, luxu- 
riant orchard, and through its dense foliage 
peep out the white houses and turrets of the 
city of Bujeiah. Above this there rises the hill 
of Gouraya, beautifully terraced to the eleva- 
tion of two thousand feet, and as it were guard- 
ing the town which nestles at its base. 1 

Those walls, so entirely disproportioned to 
the population they now contain, indicate a 
past of greater prosperity, and tell the beholder 
that once there was a vast city where the 
orchards grow. The feature of a safe harbor, 
so rare on that inhospitable coast, made this 
a commercial point at an early period. The 
Carthaginians founded here an important col- 
ony, called Saldae, which continued to flourish 

1 For descriptions of Bujeiah as it was and as it is, see 
Rozet, Shaw, Dureau de la Malle, and other travelers in Alge- 
ria and Kabylia ; also Conde's Arabs in Spain, chap. XLII. 
It is because wax candles were once imported in great quanti- 
ties from this place that the French called them " Bougies," 
which is the French name of the city. 



190 TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA. 

after Rome had conquered and absorbed the 
possessions of her rival. When Rome in turn 
fell before conquerors, Saldae declined and al- 
most disappeared. When the Saracens became 
masters of this part of Africa, they saw the 
value of the position, and a new city rose on 
the ruins of the old one, which was called 
Bedschijah, or Bujeiah. In the twelfth century 
it was the capital of a large kingdom, whose 
sovereigns were independent of the Caliphs, and 
ruled from Tunis to Gibraltar. But in 1151, 
Abdelraumen, who governed the Saracens in 
Spain, subdued this kingdom, and, at the time 
of the Children's Crusade, it remained subject to 
his successors. It was now in its glory, hav- 
ing within its walls over one hundred thousand 
inhabitants. It was, next to Cairo, the princi- 
pal city in Africa, and possessed a lucrative 
and extensive commerce. The writers of the 
time dwell fondly on its praise, telling us that, 
in the splendor of its edifices and the wealth 
and luxury of its people, it excelled, as it proba- 
bly did at the time, any place on the Mediterra- 
nean. The Mohammedans of all lands ac- 
knowledged it to be one of the holy cities, and 
gave it the name of " Little Mecca." To this 
place, in this its era of power and beauty, does 
our story take us now. 



THE CAPTIVES OF BUJEIAH. I9I 

The children on the five ships had sorrow- 
fully seen their unfortunate comrades drifting 
toward the breakers. It may be they had lost 
sight of them before they struck, or they may 
have even witnessed the dreadful catastrophe. 
At any rate, they felt that they were safe them- 
selves when the threatening headland was 
weathered. When the storm ceased they were 
grateful for deliverance from the perils which 
had surrounded them, while hope revived that 
they would yet reach the port they sought. 
They counted the days to elapse, and began to. 
imagine the scenes of welcome which awaited 
them. 

But that hope was only revived to be more 
cruelly blighted. They now learnt that they 
were victims of an infamous treachery, and we 
are to follow them, not to the Holy Land, but 
to slavery among the Saracens. We learn, to 
our dismay, from the returned priest, that Hugo 
Ferreus and William Porcus, the kind and dis- 
interested merchants of Marseilles, were simply 
slave dealers, and that they had contracted to sell 
these confiding children to the Mohammedans, 
to whom such a consignment would be of rare 
value, to minister to their luxury. Thus was 
explained the remarkable readiness of these 
men to furnish vessels gratuitously, and the 



I92 TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA. 

hypocrisy of professing to do it all causa Dei 
absque pretio exposed, but, alas, when too late ! 
How the victims learned their betrayal, we 
do not know. It may have been when Saracen 
vessels came in sight, and, surrounding them, 
separated the ships, making the sailors steer as 
they ordered ; or it may be that they were re- 
moved from the vessels of Marseilles and car- 
ried to those of the enemy, on which they were 
to be conveyed whither their captors chose. 
Whatever was the event which revealed the 
treachery of the merchants, never has the sea 
beheld a sadder moment than when these 
thousands of children became aware that they 
were slaves to the .Mohammedans. For all 
knew what that lot implied. In every village 
of Europe had some escaped or liberated cap- 
tive told the story of his slavery, and, by addi- 
tions of his own to facts which, unimproved, 
were terrible enough, made that fate proverbi- 
ally horrible. We can therefore easily picture 
the feelings of the young pilgrims when they 
discovered that in that bondage, the description 
of which had always made them shudder, they 
were to pass their lives. They looked around 
upon the sea, but found none to help. The 
limitless expanse told them that they were com- 
pletely at the mercy of that race whom they 



THE CAPTIVES OF BUJEIAH. 1 93 

had learned to hate and fear from earliest in- 
fancy. During their lamentations they were 
separated, and while part were carried towards 
Alexandria, the rest were conveyed to Bujeiah 
by their captors. Following these we soon 
reach this harbor, and behold the final destina- 
tion of this fragment of the hosts which we saw 
depart from Vendome. 

Very beautiful was the view presented as one 
entered the bay of Bujeiah in 12 12. The city 
covered the flank of the Gouraya, built on ter- 
races, where dark and luxuriant verdure almost 
hid the houses, and seemed to try to conceal 
also the high and slender minarets, while the 
blue sky and scented breezes told of a voluptu- 
ous climate. The fields and valleys around 
were assiduously cultivated, and revealed a 
teeming and prosperous population, which was 
also proved by the masts of many vessels riding 
safely at anchor. There was no scene so fair 
from the Pillars of Hercules to the River of 
Egypt, although now few know that it ever ex- 
isted. But to the children, these beauties had 
no power to charm. They knew that before 
them was a life of labor in the service of those 
whom they had been taught to despise, and for 
whose extermination they had been taught to 
pray. Among scenes so fair, and landscapes 
13 



194 TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA. 

so lovely, they were to be slaves in a hopeless 
slavery. 

The vessels came to, the sails were furled, 
the anchors dropped, and the voyage, begun in 
Marseilles, was at length ended. But how dif- 
ferently from their hopes ! " Was it for this," 
said they, " that we have taken the Cross and 
enlisted in the army of Christ ? Is it thus 
the soldiers of the holy cause are rewarded ? 
Has God's arm been shortened that it cannot 
save ? " 

They were taken ashore and dispersed, as they 
who bought them wished, and then their servi- 
tude began ! To their respective homes we 
cannot follow them. Scattered over the neigh- 
boring territory and throughout the city, they 
found their lot eased or hardened by cruel or 
kinder masters, or according to the nature of 
the work allotted to them. And so they en- 
tered upon their menial tasks, while the friends 
whom they had left in distant France supposed 
they were reaping glory in rescuing the Sepul- 
chre and restoring the fallen kingdom -of Jerusa- 
lem. They soon saw how vain it was for them 
to look for rescue or ransom. They felt that 
the tidings of their fate had not reached their 
kindred, and that long since they had been 
given up as dead. How did they wish that word 
could be sent to the distant dear ones, that their 



THE CAPTIVES OF BUJEIAH. 195 

condition might at least be known, if it could 
not be changed ! But the winds would bear 
.no message, nor did the waves, as they broke, 
bring any news from the far-off shore whence 
they had rolled, regardless whether Christian or 
heathen owned the coast whereon they dashed. 
In course of time the children grew up to man- 
hood, and age crept over them, finding them 
still slaves. Now and then they probably met 
with other captives taken in the wars, or on 
the sea, and from them heard of their homes. 
They learnt of the Crusades undertaken since 
their departure, of the successes achieved and 
of the failures experienced, and then the old 
men wept at their tasks, as they thought how 
much more enviable it would have been to have 
perished in some hour of victory on the holy 
soil of Palestine. 

One by one the captives died, some by dis- 
ease, some by cruelty ; others pined away in old 
age. At length all had dropped their weary 
burdens, and their toils and sorrows ended, the 
betrayed Crusaders slept the sleep which liber- 
ates from the oppressor's yoke, and rested in 
the land where the voice of the task-master is 
not heard. 

They all died in slavery. Not one of the 
many hundreds ever saw Europe again. 1 

1 Albericus ; Hccker. 



1 96 TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA. 

One hundred years later, this same Bujeiah 
was the scene of the martyrdom of one whose 
labors and death have invested the place with 
interest as great as that associated with the 
memory of these children. 

Raymond Lully spent a large part of his life 
in this city, preaching among enemies and in 
fearlessness of peril the Gospel of Christ. This 
man, one of the most remarkable of the Middle 
Ages, will forever stand in the front rank of the 
army of missionaries ; for truly like the Master 
was he who could, in the midst of the Crusades, 
proclaim everywhere, "The Holy Land can be 
won in no other way than as thou, O Lord Je- 
sus Christ, and thy Apostles, won it, by love, by 
prayers, by shedding of tears and of blood." 
And it was here, in this scene of the young Cru- 
saders' servitude, that he was stoned to death 
by the Mohammedans in 13 14. 

Bujeiah has long since fallen. Its natural 
beauties are unchanged. The foliage is as 
green, the fruits as luscious, the sky as blue, as 
when the betrayed little ones labored there and 
pined. • But a few broken columns and illegible 
inscriptions are all that remain of the once 
proud edifices of a great and luxurious city. 

It is now in the possession of the French, and 
people from the land of the children bear rule 



ALEXANDRIA AND BAGDAD. 1 97 

where the children were captives. But few of 
those who have made it their home for pur- 
poses of business, think that, with the soil they 
tread, there is mingled the dust of these youths 
of their own fair France, who died there six 
centuries ago. 

v. 

Alexandria and Bagdad. 

Having seen the fate of the children on the 
vessels which were taken to Bujeiah, we turn 
to follow those from whom they were separated. 
They were also destined never to see their 
homes again. The port to which they were to 
be taken was Alexandria, nearly fifteen hundred 
miles distant from San Pietro. Long and te- 
dious was the voyage, giving them painfully 
ample time to realize their condition, and medi- 
tate on the future before them. Suffering in 
body and in mind, they sailed along the inhos- 
pitable coast of Africa, until at length they saw 
a faint line of sand hills, in front of which rose 
the two solitary columns, Cleopatra's Needle 
and Pompey's Pillar, which then, as now, formed 
the landmarks for the mariner on that monoto- 
nous shore, and indicated the site of Alexan- 
dria. This once great city was at this time 
sunk to the lowest point that it reached be- 



19^ TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA. 

tween its grandeur in ancient times and its 
revival in modern days. It had gradually de- 
clined after the fall of the Roman Empire, but 
the conquest by the Saracens in the tenth cen- 
tury, and the building of Cairo, completed its 
humiliation. In 12 12 it was a mere port of 
the latter city, containing a few hovels, where 
a scanty and miserable population dwelt, among 
noble ruins which told of the ages when it had 
rivaled Rome in size, and eclipsed it in luxury 
and wealth. The superior beauty of its situa- 
tion, as well as the residence of the Sultan, 
made Cairo rise at the cost of the older city, so 
that soon it seemed that the site of the capital 
of the Ptolemies, and the abode of Mark and 
of Cyril, was to be tenantless, and that deso- 
lation was to reign in it as supreme as it had 
before the conqueror of Darius ordered its 
construction, to perpetuate his name, and con- 
stitute his sepulchral monument. 

Past the ruins of the fallen Pharos the chil- 
dren were carried into the deserted harbor, and 
perhaps to some broken column on the Hepta- 
stadium their captors made fast the ships. 

When landed, they were sold and dispersed. 
Bitter were the tears, heart-rending the partings, 
as their purchasers tore them from each other, 
and they bade farewell with that intensity 



ALEXANDRIA AND BAGDAD. 199 

which they feel who never expect to meet again 
on earth. 

A great many of the children were bought 
on the spot by the Governor of Alexandria, 
Maschemuth, and were destined to lead a mis- 
erable life in cultivating his lands and in me- 
nial services about his dwelling, for he is said 
to have been a cruel master. 

The ecclesiastics were more fortunate who 
had accompanied the little Crusaders, whether 
with the good intention of caring for, and advis- 
ing them, or, as was more probable, because 
carried away by the prevailing excitement. 
Here, for the first time, we learn how consid- 
erable was their number. We are told that the 
Sultan of Egypt, or the Caliph, 1 as he is errone- 
ously called by chroniclers, " bought four hun- 
dred clerks, among whom were eighty priests." 
This Sultan was Malek Kamel, son of the usur- 
per Malek Adel, better known as the famous 
Saphadin, who was still alive, but had abdicated 
and divided his vast empire among his sons, 
with whom he lived. One chronicler tells us 
that this Malek Adel was the son of the great 
Saladin, and that he had studied twenty-three 
years in Paris, during which time he had mas- 
tered all the languages of Europe, and that 

1 Albericus. 



200 TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA. 

even on his throne he still wore his university 
robe, while he had ceased to offer, as Moham- 
medans were believed to do, camel's flesh in 
sacrifice. The whole story is probably a fic- 
tion ; for, instead of his being the son of Sala- 
din, his father had dethroned and killed Sala- 
din's son, Al Aziz. As regards his studying 
in Paris, the relations existing between the 
adherents of the two religions would have pre- 
vented it, if his father had been capable of per- 
mitting so unique an occurrence. 

Thus, while we cannot believe this true, al- 
though some have not thought it impossible, 
nevertheless his conduct in regard to the ec- 
clesiastics whom he purchased of the slave deal- 
ers, shows us remarkable traits of character for 
one circumstanced as he was. His selection 
was one which awakens our surprise, as does his 
treatment of them afterwards. He took them to 
Cairo, and kept them in a merely nominal slav- 
ery in that beautiful and prosperous city. They 
dwelt by themselves in his palace, and- their 
only duties were teaching him, and whom else 
he chose, the letters of Europe. Their yoke 
was as easy as a yoke could ever be, and in 
learned pursuits they passed their time, pos- 
sessing all they wished, save their liberty. 

In another direction are we taken, as we fol- 



ALEXANDRIA AND BAGDAD. 201 

low the fate of the other children besides 
those bought by the Caliph and Maschemuth. 
They fell into the hands of masters who, to sell 
them the better, prepared to take them to far 
distant Bagxlad. Their route lay across the 
Delta of the Nile, then over the weary des- 
ert to Palestine, and into that Holy Land where 
they had hoped to march as conquerors, they 
were brought as captives. With what emotions 
did they behold the walls of the sacred city, for 
whose conquest they had enlisted, but which 
now was only a stopping-place on the path to 
bondage! Theirs was not the privilege to 
worship by a liberated Sepulchre. They may 
have seen the dome which covered it, from the 
khan where their captors kept them, only to 
know it was inaccessible, and defiled by the 
custody of heathen. Thus sadly was fulfilled 
the hope they had often expressed, as on their 
march to Marseilles they had sung — "Our feet 
shall stand within thy walls, O Jerusalem ! " 

But their owners hurried them away. Past 
Nazareth, and Hattin, the scene of the disas- 
trous defeat of the Crusaders, past the dark 
waters of Galilee, and over the mountains, they 
were dragged towards Damascus. The beauty 
which here enchants the traveller had no 
power to please them, and it was without the 



202 TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA. 

regret he feels that they saw its minarets and 
domes and lovely foliage disappear, when, leav- 
ing it, they penetrated the desert on their east- 
ward journey. Then ensued that dreadful 
march across the wide waste which stretches, 
unrelieved, from Syria to Mesopotamia. Once 
was the monotony of sand broken, as they 
tarried to encamp among the solitary ruins of 
Palmyra, where the moon then, as to-day, 
looked down on no sleepers save the Bedouins 
or the caravans, that make its deserted streets 
their resting-place. But these ruins also disap- 
peared behind the desert horizon, and one day, 
as at sea, was like another, sad, long, and unre- 
lieved, until, after several weeks, the weary cam- 
els gladly drank of the waters of the Euphra- 
tes. They were transported down the river 
for a few days, and then, leaving it and cross- 
ing the intervening plains, they reached the 
city they sought, on the banks of the Tigris. 
Here their journeyings were ended. For this 
had they assumed the Cross a few short months 
ago ! This was the destination where the pil- 
grimage, begun by the Loire or the Seine, was to 
terminate ! Since the year, now nearly closed, 
had commenced,, how much had they seen ! 
How far had they travelled ! How much had 
they endured ! It must have seemed, in view 



ALEXANDRIA AND BAGDAD. 203 

of the rapidity with which the events had suc- 
ceeded each other, as a horrid dream since, 
yesterday as it were, they had parted from their 
kindred in far distant France. 

They were now dispersed, as each purchaser 
took to his home those whom he selected. Ac- 
cording to the character of the various masters 
was the hardship of their servitude. The city 
was, as Cairo, extremely luxurious and beauti- 
ful, being the theme of poets for its splendor. 
Here resided the great chief of the Moslems, 
the Caliph, and the wealth of many lands was 
made to minister to their common capital. But 
though the children found here refinement and 
comfort which France or Europe could not 
equal, they thought wistfully of their ruder 
homes, far away to the westward, and, during 
the long years of bondage, they longed to see 
once again their native villages and their be- 
loved friends. 

There is some definite light cast on the lot 
of a few, which brings us to the last scene, and 
it is a scene of martyrdom. Not long after the 
arrival of these captives, there was held a meet- 
ing of Saracen princes in Bagdad. 1 The object 
of it is not told us. It was probably for con- 

1 Albericus says this was in the same year with their de« 
parture. 



204 TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA. 

sultation, in view of the distracted state of the 
Mohammedan world ; for, at the time, there 
were many dissensions among the turbulent 
and aspiring sultans of the different provinces, 
and the once compact empire was divided, and 
apparently in danger of self-destruction. What- 
ever was the reason for this gathering, the 
princes agreed in one thing, — enmity to the 
Christians ; and when they learned of the pres- 
ence of the children who had vainly enlisted as 
Crusaders, they considered it becoming the 
capital of " the chief of all the faithful," and a 
proper object for so august an assembly, to 
endeavor to convert these young unbelievers. 
Into their presence some of the children were 
brought. Every art was used to win them. 
Entreaty, argument, and threat were employed 
to lead them to adopt the creed of the Prophet. 
They were promised the sensual delights of the 
believers, and all the comforts that that city 
could provide, if they would yield ; while, on 
the other hand, death by torture and agony 
would be the result of obstinacy. But tempta- 
tions could not move them ; threats could not 
intimidate them. Though before such power- 
ful sovereigns, they remained steadfast, and 
children of tender age baffled all the wiles of 
these rulers of Asia. When their determina- 



ALEXANDRIA AND BAGDAD. 205 

tion was evident, some were ordered to be put 
to death, in the expectation that the spectacle 
might affect the rest ; but the survivors were 
still firm, and the enraged Saracens commanded 
that others should be executed, until their ven- 
geance was gratified, or until they judged it 
wiser to let the rest live, in the hope that time 
might do what threats could not effect. Before 
their thirst for blood was satisfied, eighteen 
were put to death, by the bowstring, or by 
drowning. 

Where is there a scene in history more touch- 
ing than the martyrdom of these eighteen little 
ones, whom all the power and state of the Caliph 
and his princes could neither tempt nor dis- 
may ? How noble a termination of their Cru- 
sade ! How much more illustrious is their 
memory for this faithfulness, than any victories 
in battle or subjugation of enemies could have 
rendered it ! 

These children, who died rather than gain a 
life of ease by denying their Lord, remind us 
of others, who on the banks of the same river, in 
days long previous, had manifested equal firm- 
ness. By that Tigris had the captive children 
of Israel been enslaved, and their tears had 
mingled with the waters which now were tur- 
gid with the Crusaders' blood. There did the 



206 TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA. 

latter, like their predecessors, not forget Jeru- 
salem, neither did they cease to cling to their 
faith at the cost of their " chief joy." Like 
them did the tortured and betrayed little ones 
" speak of the Lord's testimonies even before 
princes, and were not ashamed ; " and with the 
remains of those who could not for their sor- 
rows " sing the Lord's song in a strange land," 
lie mingled the now indistinguishable dust of 
those who only dared in concealment to pray 
the prayers they had learnt in their unforgotten 
homes beyond the desert, and beyond the sea. 
As the sufferings of the former exiles expiated 
many sins which caused God to let the Assyri- 
ans "carry them away captive," thus does the 
constancy of these whose fate we have seen 
make us forget their folly, and' it atones for 
their disobedience to the parents whose wis- 
dom they now confessed in tears. Such deaths 
cover, to human eyes, the imperfections and 
spots in the lives of those who meet them. 

Strange is it that Bujeiah and Bagdad are 
each rendered memorable by two separate testi- 
monies to God's truth in bondage and death ! 



STORY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN. 207 



VI. 
Conclusio?i of the Story of the French Children. 

The martyrdom of the eighteen children in 
Bagdad occurred, as was stated, in the same 
year in which they had left their homes. It 
must have been in the ensuing Winter. 

Concerning the fate of the rest who were 
taken to that distant region, we know no more. 
That single scene of bloodshed and cruelty 
alone has been recorded. They lived and la- 
bored, grew old and died, by the banks of the 
Tigris and of the Euphrates, waiting in vain for 
the day of liberation ; hearing, it may be, as 
did those in Bujeiah, of the disasters or of the 
successes of the Christian Crusaders, but feel- 
ing that no victory could bring relief to them. 

As years passed away, hopes grew feebler, 
and, at last, they resigned themselves to the 
sad belief that they were forgotten, or deemed 
by their friends to have perished. In Egypt, 
we saw that there were a number who dwelt 
in Cairo, and many in Alexandria. Those in 
the former city continued in their easy slavery, 
and found in their companionship some conso- 
lation for their exile. The priest who returned 
was one of these. The Sultan had liberated 



208 TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA. 

him, but we do not know why. Whatever was 
the reason, it was an act of precious moment 
to those in Europe who first heard from him 
of the fate of the ships which had departed 
from Marseilles eighteen years before, and of 
the thousands they had carried. He said that, 
after these intervening years, the ecclesiastics 
in Cairo were still as kindly treated, and had, 
as their only occupation, literary pursuits. 

It was stated that Maschemuth, Governor of 
Alexandria, had purchased a large number of 
the children on their arrival. The returned 
priest said that there were still living, at the 
time of his release, seven hundred of these, now, 
of course, having attained the age of manhood. 

One fact, related by this priest concerning 
the children, ends his story. He said that he 
had never heard of a single one of the Cru- 
saders, old or young, who had abandoned the 
faith of their home and of their infancy. 
There may have been others exposed to perse- 
cution than those in Bagdad ; many were sub- 
ject to countless strong temptations to adopt 
the easy, sensuous faith of their masters, but 
they resisted threats and wiles unto the end. 
It is true that the sphere of knowledge of this 
priest was but partial, yet those for whom he 
could speak positively were as much liable to 



STORY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN. 209 

apostasy as any, and consequently, when he 
says that he never heard that one abandoned 
Christianity, it is enough to show that this 
faithfulness was general. The earnest were 
too pious to become heathen. They who had 
undertaken the Crusade for other motives were 
led by their perils to find their comfort in the 
faith they had once neglected. 

The effect of the promulgation of these tid- 
ings by the priest can be more easily imagined 
than described. It revived interest in a theme 
which had become almost forgotten. 

Many a question did he have to answer, ad- 
dressed by anxious parents, and few were the 
cases where he could give to the bereaved the 
welcome reply that their "Joseph" was "still 
alive and in Egypt." 

Of course, with their interest in the news, the 
people also expressed their indignation at the 
conduct of the merchants, Porcus and Ferreus. 
But, as we shall see, they were not yet to re- 
ceive their due reward. 

Efforts may have been made to secure the 
liberation of the Crusaders that still lived, but 
in vain, for none ever returned. They lingered 
on in servitude in their various places of abode 
through passing years. They may have heard 
of the violent and many political changes of the 
14 



2IO TIDINGS FROM BEYOND THE SEA. 

Mohammedan world, but these did not help 
them ; they only changed their masters. Those 
who lived until twenty years after the priest's 
return, when Saint Louis waged his war in 
Egypt, may have thought that this would end 
in their deliverance. But it was in vain that 
they looked to this. How anxiously must they 
have awaited the issue of the conflicts between 
their brethren and their oppressors ! 

When this Crusade was ended, in 1250, the 
last chance had vanished, for nothing occurred 
afterwards which could help them or that might 
free them. 

And so, without hope, the scattered captives 
worked at their tasks in the various regions 
whither they had been carried, forgetting the 
tongue of their infancy, but not forgetting its 
scenes, experiencing the vicissitudes which re- 
sulted from the caprices of their masters, until 
all was over. The last straggler in the rear of 
the dissolving band escaped from slavery by 
the great gate-way to liberty, and at length the 
morning dawned when the muezzin's cry from 
airy tower, calling the faithful to prayer, was 
heard no longer by any of those whose for- 
tunes we have followed to their mournful 
close. 

Was ever journey sad as that one ? We have 



STORY OF THE FRENCH CHILDREN. 211 

seen an army which left Vend6me, so full of 
hope under their youthful leader, betrayed, 
scattered, and enslaved. They had indeed found 
a way through the sea, but the price of their 
passage was their life and their freedom. Some 
of them reached Jerusalem, but they walked 
its streets as captives, and looked upon Olivet 
in chains. 



CHAPTER IX. 

THE FATE OF THE LEADERS AND OF THE 
BETRAYERS. 

Our story is incomplete until we gather up 
the hints that are preserved regarding the three 
youths who led the children, that, as we have 
seen "from the towns and cities of all coun- 
tries, ran with eager steps to the parts beyond 
the sea," and concerning those who betrayed 
them so basely. 

As regards Stephen, Roger de Wendover 
says that "an infinite number followed the 
aforesaid master to the Mediterranean,'' but 
rather shows his ignorance of the details of the 
transaction and of the state of affairs in Pales- 
tine, by adding, " crossing which, they went on 
their way, singing in orderly procession and in 
troops." We cannot feel certain from so gen- 
eral a statement that Stephen retained his 
influence until they reached Marseilles, and yet 



FATE OF LEADERS AND BETRAYERS. 213 

it is not improbable. The journey was not long, 
though tedious while it lasted, and with him 
were many others who were interested in con- 
tinuing his authority from reasons of a selfish 
character. He may have really led them into 
the city they sought. After that we know no 
more about him. We cannot tell whether or not 
he embarked on the ships of the merchants, 
and shared the fate of his victims in shipwreck 
or slavery. It may be that he returned to 
Cloyes, and there passed succeeding years in 
tending the sheep he had left to conduct an 
army, and that, in quiet hours on the hill-sides 
about his home, he mused in after days on that 
summer dream of glory. 

Concerning Nicholas we know that he was 
the leader of his band when they entered 
Genoa, for two eye-witnesses record the fact. 1 
But this is the last that we hear of him. 

Whether he remained there is not stated. It 
may be that he was of those who concluded to 
make there their home, or that he persevered 
to Rome. That he did not return to Cologne 
seems apparent from one fact which is re- 
corded. It is said that when the people of 
that city learned the fate of the children, and 
the story of their sufferings, they revenged the 

1 Caffari and Sicardi. 



214 FATE OF LEADERS AND BETRAYERS, 

little ones by hanging his father. 1 This would 
lead us to infer that they could not lay hold of 
Nicholas, or they would have visited their in- 
dignation also upon him, for they would have 
sooner identified him with the deceivers than 
with the deceived. It also shows that his 
father played a prominent part in originating 
the Crusade, and aimed at his own advantage. 

His colleague is not spoken of in the chroni- 
cles by name. We only are told that the other 
army had a leader. Who he was, or what be- 
came of him, cannot now be discovered. 

One other leader to whom we referred, has 
been more fortunate in the extent to which his 
fame has been preserved. We saw that in 
northern France, a man of mature years, Jacob 
of Hungary, preached the Crusade of Stephen, 
and led many children to Vendome. He is not 
mentioned again in connection with the move- 
ment. We do not know if he accompanied the 
band to Marseilles, or left it when on the way 
thither. 

But he comes forward again in history, and 
as a prominent actor in a transaction of a 
nature similar to this of which we are treating. 

Seasons passed away, and the sad year of 
1250 came, when the vast army of Saint Louis 

1 Ge.sta Trevirorwn. 



FATE OF LEADERS AND BETRAYERS. 215 

had been dispersed on the shores of the Medi- 
terranean, and the King himself made prisoner. 
A general feeling of despondency spread over 
France, and the people were broken-hearted by 
the captivity of their beloved sovereign. Then, 
in some way which cannot be traced, a feeling 
arose that the cause of the Crusades was to be 
made victorious by means of the shepherds, and 
it spread as rapidly as had done the idea in 1212 
that the children were to render it triumphant. 
Here Jacob of Hungary comes to the surface 
again. He was now an old man, with a long, 
white beard and the aspect of a prophet, and 
had spent the intervening years as a shepherd. 
He preached in all the towns of France and 
Flanders that he was commissioned by God to 
lead an army of peasants to rescue the Holy 
Land and liberate the King. Soon he found 
himself at the head of more than a hundred 
thousand enthusiastic " Pastors," as they called 
themselves, and they started to seek the way to 
Palestine. But they soon found that they 
might use their power more advantageously to 
themselves nearer home, and they declaimed no 
longer against the Saracens, but against the 
Church, the rulers, and the rich. Pillaging and 
robbing as they went, they resolved to assemble 
at Bourges, where Jacob was to perform mira- 



216 FATE OF LEADERS AND BETRAYERS. 

cles, and where he was to rule as a king. But 
by this time the people were aroused, and unit- 
ed to oppose the rabble. They met them at 
Villeneuve, and, in a sanguinary battle, routed 
the Pastors beyond all possibility of reassem- 
bling. Jacob of Hungary was killed by a sol- 
dier in the conflict, who with his axe finished 
the old man's career by cutting off his head. 
So terminated the strange story of this twice 
successful deceiver. 1 

If our sympathies were awakened by the sad 
fate which befell the children who formed the 
French army in this strange Crusade, our indig- 
nation must have been equally aroused at the 
peculiarly cruel treachery of the merchants, 
who played upon their ignorance and their 
confidence in order to betray them. 

It is.with satisfaction that we learn that they 
did not go unpunished, but that they met with 
justice, although for another crime. 

Whether they fled from Marseilles in order 
to escape the vengeance which they dreaded, 
or left that city for other reasons, we are not 
told, but they appear again upon another field 
of action, and in the prosecution of an under- 
taking similar to this one in which we have 

1 Roger de Wendover and Roger Bacon. 



FA TE OF LEADERS AND BE TEA YERS. 2 1 7 

seen them, but, happily, not with equal suc- 
cess. 

Frederick II., Emperor of Germany, was also 
king of Sicily. This beautiful and fertile island 
had been wrested from the Saracens by Guis- 
card in 1090, but the latter never ceased to de- 
sire to regain it, or to make frequent desperate 
attempts to that end. These efforts continued 
up to the date of which we are speaking. At 
the time, the Mohammedans had a slight foot- 
hold upon the island, when they sought by a 
new plan to secure it altogether. That was to 
capture the Emperor. The opportunity to do 
this was afforded by the frequent visits which 
he made to this part of his dominions, to attend 
to its wants and to promote that administration 
of justice for which his reign was conspicuous. 

The Emir Mirabel, ruler of the Saracens in 
Sicily, conceived this plan, and found ready 
agents in the merchants, Porcus and Ferreus, 
who probably had been in relation with him in 
their old trade of selling Christians into slavery. 
The agreement was made that they should 
seek to capture Frederick alive, or, if this could 
not be accomplished, to assassinate him. But, 
carefully as they laid their schemes, the vigi- 
lance of the Emperor was too great for them. 
The plot was discovered, and Mirabel, with his 



218 FATE OF LEADERS AND BETRAYERS. 

two sons and the merchants, were made prison- 
ers. In such a case punishment was summary 
and severe. The five, though the heathen were 
far less guilty than their treacherous assistants, 
were all hung upon one gallows, and we leave 
them hanging there, not sorry that the martyrs 
of San Pietro, Bujeiah, Alexandria, and Bagdad 
were avenged. 1 



We have now traced, from its commence- 
ment to its sad termination, a movement which 
is unique in the varied history of the world, and 
the wildest delusion of an age of delusions. 2 

Sixty thousand families, it is estimated, were 
by it saddened or bereaved, and, in its mad 
current, nearly a hundred thousand children 
were carried away to hardships or to death. 
Of this number at least a third never saw 
again the homes whence the songs and banners 
had lured them. They died by the banks of 
every stream, and in every valley along the 
routes of the three armies ; some while seek- 
ing the distant sea, others while wearily seeking 
their homes. Others still, as we have seen, 

1 Albericus. 2 Appendix A. 



FATE OF LEADERS AND BETRAYERS. 219 

sailed from Pisa, Brindisi, and Marseilles to die 
in shipwreck and in slavery. 

And most extraordinary is the briefness of 
the space of time within which it was all- com- 
prehended. Eight short months comprised it, 
from -the call of Stephen among his flocks by 
Cloyes, to the scene of martyrdom in distant 
Bagdad. Within this short period, the great 
throb of child-life rose and ceased, its work 
complete. We can scarcely believe that all 
transpired so rapidly, but this rests upon dis- 
tinct assertions of the authorities. 

It was- stated that the cruel delusion was the 
work of the emissaries of Rome, who, despair- 
ing of arousing Europe to a new interest in the 
Crusades, thought such a movement, for which 
they found the children ready, owing to the 
arts and appeals to which their elders were ac- 
customed, would conduce to the result which 
they sought to effect. They succeeded prob- 
ably better than they had intended, and awoke 
a spirit which they could not, if they would, 
suppress. For the deception the Pope had no 
words of rebuke, for its progress no syllables of 
prohibition, for the victims no tears of sympa- 
thy. He was not a man to be influenced by 
sentiments of a tender nature, and he saw in 
this an auxiliary to his great desire. We no- 



220 FATE OF LEADERS AND BETRAYERS. 

ticed the cruelty with which he decreed that 
the children must renew the attempt to rescue 
Palestine when older, and redeem the vows 
which they had taken. In keeping with this 
conduct was a remark which has been pre- 
served, uttered by him when endeavoring to 
raise a new crusade : " These boys shame us, 
for, while they rush to the recovery of the Holy 
Land, we sleep." 1 It resulted then, as we saw, 
that this fatal and delusive undertaking fur- 
nished an argument wherewith to appeal to the 
adults. And this man's assumed name was 
Innocent. His original name was Lothario, 
Count of Segno. 

One more consideration occurs to us, which 
is the illustration which this strange Crusade 
affords us of the unsettled state of Europe 'in 
these times. We are apt to rise from perusal 
of mediaeval history with a strong, yet vague 
idea of disorder and unrest, lawlessness and 
anarchy. But the vast difference between so- 
ciety now and what it was then, is manifested 
in new vividness when we think what the con- 
dition of affairs must have been, in order that 
it could have been possible for such an affair 
as this to occur, or that which soon followed, 
the ravages of the Pastors. Demoralization so 

1 Albert Stadensis quotes the Pope's language. 



FATE OF LEADERS AND BETRAYERS. 221 

complete makes one grateful that his lot has 
been cast in these latter days, wiiose turmoils 
and disorders seem as tranquility itself, com- 
pared with the life which our ancestors led. 
They were romantic days, as they are called, 
but the pen of the novelist or poet has endued 
them with a halo which would surprise those 
who lived in them, and found them to be days 
of want, of trouble, and of struggle. They 
were sadly commonplace to the generations 
who had to endure them. 

But we now must turn to the last part of our 
task, the description of the monument of the 
shipwrecked children, which is also the sole 
relic of the entire transaction. 



CHAPTER X. 

ECCLESIA NOVORUM INNOCENTIUM. 

I. 

The Church. 

When the sad tidings of the fate of the chil- 
dren that left Marseilles became known, as we 
have seen, by the return of the liberated priest 
eighteen years later, the reigning Pope, Greg- 
ory IX., resolved to erect a tribute to the 
memory of those who were victims of the am- 
bition or the zeal of his predecessor. There 
was one place eminently appropriate for such a 
structure, — the Island of San Pietro, where it 
would serve to recall the event in the scene of 
one of its most touching episodes, and which 
was, moreover, the only place of the many 
where they had met their deaths, which was 
not inaccessible to Christians. 

Many of the bodies had been washed ashore, 
after that fatal storm, and some kind hands 
had gathered and buried them on the lonely 
island. During the intervening years they had 



THE CHURCH 223 

lain there, but they were now to have a more 
appropriate resting-place. The Pope caused a 
church to be built, and the remains of the little 
ones were placed within it. It was to be both 
their memorial and their shrine. With touch- 
ing and beautiful reference to the murdered 
children of Bethlehem, this monument over the 
remains of youths who died, as they thought, 
in Christ's cause, was called, Ecclesia Novo 
rum Innocentium ; the Church of the New In- 
nocents. Rarely has a name been given to a 
church more appropriate, or more replete with 
suggestiveness. 

In-order that services might be maintained 
in so sacred a spot, and that the structure 
might be cared for where there was no popula- 
tion to attend to it, the Pope endowed the 
church sufficiently to support twelve prebends, 
who were to form the only inhabitants of the 
isle, and to continue the sounds of prayer and 
praise from day to day and from year to year. 

But they were not destined to be as lonely 
as they may have anticipated. In an age of 
pilgrimages and of holy places, a spot like this 
would not remain unvisited. It soon became a 
favorite shrine, and, from the islands around, 
crowds came to utter eager prayers or to fulfill 
the vows of superstition. The deep waters bore 



224 ECCLESIA NOVO RUM INNOCENTIUM. 

on their bosom many a boat, laden with pil- 
grims, who, as they approached the shore, 
heard the music of the services, that was wafted 
towards them by the breeze. It became the 
noted place of that part of the Mediterranean, 
and was looked upon with reverence as a " Holy 
Isle," where the wonderful children slept, whose 
intercession was most precious in view of their 
virtues and their martyrdom. 

Thus did years pass away, and generation 
after generation came to worship where. their 
ancestors had prayed. Three centuries after 
its erection we hear of the church again. 
Alberic tells us that it was then as much fre- 
quented as ever, and that the story of the chil- 
dren was listened to with undiminished inter- 
est. This interest was also increased by the 
priests, in that they showed to the pilgrims the 
bodies of the shipwrecked Crusaders, still en- 
tire and undecayed, which was a perpetual mir- 
acle to encourage the faithful in their prayers, 
and stimulate their liberality. This succeeded, 
for it was comparatively a small tax upon the 
credulity of the happy mortals who lived in the 
regretted ages when all was believed, and no 
questions were asked. 

After this glimpse, which Alberic gives us. 
we lose sight of the church, and it is no more 



THE CHURCH. 225 

mentioned in historic records. How long a 
time priests and pilgrims continued to pray 
there we know not. But, probably before 
many years, various causes led to its being de- 
serted. As the turmoils and excitements of 
the succeeding ages came on, or as other 
shrines rose into favor, the interest in the sep- 
ulchre of the children, whose story was now so 
old, naturally waned, and the number of the 
visitors to the island decreased. When the 
prebends found their occupation gone, and the 
offerings scanty and rare, they desisted from 
their thankless duties and departed. On some 
day that is unrecorded, the last mass was sung, 
the last taper extinguished, and the lonely 
priests sought the boat that was to bear them 
away, leaving to silence and desertion the scene 
of three centuries of pilgrimage and prayer. 

When thus abandoned and uncared for, the 
church soon became dilapidated. In that ex- 
posed situation the storms of Winter told with 
annually increasing effect, and the work of ruin 
made rapid progress. The decayed and beaten 
roof gave way at length, and left the edifice 
open to the sunlight and the rain. Vines 
clambered up the crumbling walls, and waved 
their branches in the open windows, while 
growing mosses beautified the wreck. Weeds 
15 



226 ECCLESIA NOVORUM INNOCENTIUM. 

choked up the once thronged portal, and oblit- 
erated the long-trodden pathway, while in the 
silent grass-grown aisle and around the falling 
altar, wild animals played undisturbed. 

Thus were the children teft to slumber on 
in their neglected and deserted tomb ; but the 
little birds that found there a nest and a home, 
sang over them sweeter, purer requiems than 
ever had been chanted by forgotten priests. 

II. 
The Ruin. 

The island that had again become deserted 
and silent, remained so until five hundred 
years after the shipwreck of the children, but 
we do not know how long after the abandon- 
ment of their shrine, when, for the first time 
in its history, it became peopled, and its scanty 
fields received cultivation. 

In 1737, a party of Christian captives held in 
slavery in Tabarca, on the coast of Africa, suc- 
ceeded in effecting their escape, under the 
leadership of one Tagliafico, whom they se- 
lected as their chief. Sailing northwards, 
across the sea, they reached San Pietro and re- 
solved to colonize it. Being encouraged by the 
King of Sardinia, the colony grew rapidly in 



THE RUIN. 227 

numbers and wealth, profiting by the valuable 
fisheries in the vicinity, and the precious de- 
posits of coral which were not too deep to es- 
cape the search of the adventurous divers of 
the island. In course of time the popula- 
tion has reached the number of ten thousand, 
who dwell mostly in the little city of Carlo 
Forte, whose white houses may be seen from 
Yar over the sea, nestled close to the shore, be- 
neath the shadow of the mountains which form 
the northern end of the island. They contain 
a happy, peaceful people, as is shown by the 
fact, recorded by a traveller who visited them in 
1828, that there had never been a lawsuit among 
them during the ninety years of their history 
that had elapsed. When the fugitives landed 
in 1737, they found upon the island the remains 
of the Church of the New Innocents, which filled 
them with astonishment, as they thought they 
were the first inhabitants of the isle. Being 
able to find no clue to its origin, they regarded 
it as a thing of mystery, and often talked to 
one another about that desolate edifice which 
they had discovered where, as they supposed, 
before them, man had never dwelt. When 
strangers visited San Pietro, they were shown 
f his relic, but no one could conjecture its his- 
tory. In the beginning of this century an 



228 ECCLESIA NOVO RUM INNOCENTIUM. 

English traveller, wandering among the islands 
of the Mediterranean, reached this one. He 
tells us that the wonder of the people was as 
great as ever, and that they were wont to assert 
that the island had been named after this 
church, by their fathers when they landed. He 
knew no more himself, and seems to indorse 
the story. But the next generation forgot even 
all about the edifice itself ; and, of late years, 
any one who would have asked to be conducted 
to the ruined church, would have been told that 
there was no such thing to be found on the 
island, even by those most familiar with its 
surface and its history. So completely has the 
memory of the children perished, that the people 
who dwell on San Pietro know not that their 
monument and their shrine is among them, 
that, close to their homes, are the remains of 
the edifice where for centuries prayers were said 
above their sepulchre, and a spot which has 
been sought by the feet of throngs of pilgrims. 
Within that silent inclosure many a shepherd 
has slept, little dreaming of those young Cru- 
saders who lay buried there ; and many chil- 
dren have played in this falling structure, with- 
out suspecting that it was the memorial of a 
touching story of the betrayal and death of 
hundreds like themselves, of a long past age. 



THE RUIN. 229 

But let us, in closing, describe this relic 
around which our interest centres. 1 It stands 
upon an eminence behind the city of Carlo 
Forte, and overlooks a large part of San Pietro, 
while from it may be seen the rocky and high 
outlines of the island of Sardinia, beyond the 
sparkling waters of the strait. The church was 
originally quadrangular, with a steep, peaked 
roof. In the eastern end was the altar, and 
over it a window ; the entrance being from the 
westward. But the front face has fallen down, 
and leaves but the rear and sides remaining, 
and these latter are crumbling away. There 
are no signs of the roof ; if there was a tower, 
it has disappeared. All is deserted and grass- 
grown within. The stones of which the walls 
are built are of irregular size, and put in place 
without having been carefully dressed, while 
around the ruin, the turf is thickly strewn with 
those that have fallen. Near by are two deep 
and ancient wells, which were probably exca- 
vated when the church was built, for the use of 
the priests and the pilgrims, and, not far dis- 
tant, catacombs have been discovered, which 
may have been the resting-places for those 
who died there during the period when the 
sanctity of the spot made it an abode of men, 
between the two epochs of its loneliness. 

1 Appendix B. 



230 ECCLESIA NOVORUM INNOCENTIUM. 

There it stands, weather-beaten and gray, 
between the mountains and the water, a neg- 
lected monument of a forgotten tragedy ! 
May the hand of time deal gently with it, and 
the strong-armed ivy, clambering over its 
stones, long hold them together in its firm 
grasp ! The sepulchres of Godfrey, of Bald- 
win, of Richard, and of other Crusaders, are 
honored by many a visitor ; but lonely and un- 
frequented is this tomb of those who, having 
entered on the same great cause with more 
unselfish motives, found their deaths in the 
horrors of the storm, a tomb which recalls all 
of our now finished story of the most touching 
and romantic episode of that struggle which 
convulsed and excited the world during more 
than two hundred years. 

For here our task is ended. We conclude 
the narrative of the event which we have 
sought to rescue from the oblivion into which 
it had fallen, with our gaze resting upon the 
only relic of it which we possess, the one me- 
morial which has survived the lapse of centu- 
ries. The closing scene is a ruined church, 
looking out over the blue sea, and within its 
crumbling walls the shipwrecked children are 
still sleeping. 



. APPENDICES. 



APPENDIX A. 

This movement has not been entirely unique in 
kind, though it was quite so in degree. 

Two events in subsequent years resembled it. 
The first is recorded by Marten Crusius, in his 
"Annales Suevici," Fol. LVIL Part III. p. 405, 
and also in the chronicle of the Monastery of El- 
wangen. The second is related by John Lindner, 
of Pirna, in his " Excerpta." I quote the narration 
of them in Hecker's " Child-pilgrimages," a rare 
work, translated and issued in England by the 
Sydenham Society. 

" It (' the excitement of the world of children ') 
was confined to the city of Erfurt, and was very 
transient, but not the less presents all the distinc- 
tive marks of a religious disease, and was more so 
than other pilgrimages, as far at least as has come 
down to posterity. On the fifteenth of July, 1237, 
there assembled, unknown to their parents, more 
Jian a thousand children, who left by the Lober 
gate, and wandered, dancing and leaping, by the 
Steigerwald, to Armstadt. A congress, such as this, 



232 APPENDICES. 

as if by agreement, resembles an instinctive im- 
pulse, as in animals, when, for instance, storks and 
swallows assemble for their migration ; the same 
phenomenon has doubtless taken place in all child- 
pilgrimages ; it was also remarked by eye-witnesses 
of the first of them, in a manner characteristic of the 
Middle Ages. It was not until the next day that the 
parents learned the occurrence, and they fetched 
the children back in carts. No one could say who 
had enticed them away. Many of them are said to 
have continued ill some time after, and, in particu- 
lar, to have suffered from trembling of the limbs ; 
perhaps also from convulsions. The whole affair is 
obscure, and so little an account has been taken 
of it by contemporaries, that the chronicles only 
speak of the fact, and say nothing of its causes. 
The only probable conjecture is that the festivities 
connected with the canonization of St. Elizabeth, 
the Landgravine of Thuringia, had excited, in the 
child-world of Erfurt, this itch for devotion, which 
sought to relieve itself by displays of spinal activity, 
for this child-pilgrimage is in very near proximity 
to the dancing mania. 

" Still more obscure is a child-pilgrimage of 1458, 
)f which the motives were clearly religious. It is 
probably, at present, almost impossible to trace the 
chain of ideas which occasioned it ; it is enough 
that it was in honor of the Archangel Michael. 
More than one hundred children, from Hall in Sua- 
bia, set out, against the will of their parents, for 



A PPENDICES. 233 

Mont St. Michel, in Normandy. They could not, 
by any means, be restrained ; and if force was em^ 
ployed, they fell severely ill, and some even died. 
The mayor, unable to prevent the journey, kindly 
furnished them a guide for the long distance, and 
an ass to carry their luggage. They are said to 
have actually reached the then world-renowned ab- 
bey, now, as is well known, a state prison, and to 
have performed their devotions there. We have 
absolutely no other information of them." 

Who, that has been at this wonderful St. Michael's 
Mount, near Avranches, can fail to be impressed by 
the scene of these children marching across the 
wide expanse of beach to seek it, where it rises as 
a fretted pyramid, at high tide an inaccessible isl- 
and, nearly three miles from the shore. It is of all 
spots in Europe probably the most surrounded by 
curious and vivid associations of a legendary and 
historical nature. It is not now a state prison, 
having been given to the Bishop of Avranches. 



APPENDIX B. 

As the discovery of the ruins of this church is 
-ather interesting I have thought it worth relat- 
ing. 

When compiling this book, having discovered 
that such an edifice had been erected, I naturally 



234 APPENDICES. 

desired to know if any ruins remained, and sup- 
posed that its loneliness would have tended to its 
preservation. After a long search for some de- 
scription of the island, an account of a visit to San 
Pietro was found in Smythe's " Travels in Sardinia," 
published in London in 1828. To my gratification, 
I found that he said that its present appellation is 
derived from a little old chapel near the town 
(Carlo Forte), the date of which is unknown, it hav- 
ing been found in a ruined state when the colony 
arrived. No other account of this ruin could be 
found, and I therefore took steps to secure a fur- 
ther description of it, presuming it to be the church 
of the New Innocents, for reasons given below. 

A letter to the polite Cure of Carlo Forte brought 
a reply from him that there was no such edifice on 
the island as that which I told him Smythe had seen. 

Then, through my father, Mr. J. A. C. Gray, who 
was in Italy, my friend, Mr. Newton Perkins, an art 
student, was persuaded to go to the island. The 
following letter tells his story, and shows the extent 
to which the ruin had become forgotten. He gave 
me further details in other letters and in conversa- 
tions. 

Cagliart, Island of Sardinia, March 18, 1867. 
Rev. Mr. Gray: 

My Dear Sir, — I have just returned from a trip to the 
Island of San Pietro, where I have been to look for the chapel 
known to have been erected by Pope Gregory IX. to com- 
memorate the shipwreck of vessels, near that spot, containing 
young Crusaders. I left Leghorn in a steamer, on the evening 



APPENDICES. 235 

of the 1 2th of March, and after a pleasant sail of thirty-eight 
hours arrived at Cagliari, the largest town in the Island of Sar- 
dinia, being a place of some 28,000 inhabitants. I spent one 
day and night at Cagliari, and while there called on the Eng- 
lish Consul. 1 found him a very agreeable old gentleman, and 
derived some information from him about my present business. 
On the morning of Friday the 15th, I started in an open car- 
riage for a ride across the southern portion of the island, to 
the village of Iglesias, a small town on the western coast. 
I had with me an intelligent Sard, who acted as guide. We 
rode all day, stopping occasionally for refreshment at some 
dirty little village or settlement on our route. The houses 
were built of clay-baked brick, held together by straw ; the 
ends of which could be clearly seen where the bricks had 
been cut in two. About six in the evening I arrived at Igle- 
sias, and called upon an Englishman, the superintendent of a 
company of miners working in that neighborhood. Through 
the kindness of this superintendent (whose name, I regret to 
say, has slipped my mind) I was provided with letters of in- 
troduction to several persons, which were of great service. 
On the morning of the 16th March, I started quite early for 
a drive over the mountain to the shore of the western coast. 
After reaching the summit of Mount Sirai, I had a fine view 
of the two islands lying before me. San Pietro is the more 
northern one, quite high and precipitous at the northern ex- 
tremity, and gradually sloping towards the sea at the south- 
ern part. San Antiocho is larger in size, but not so thickly 
populated. In this island excavations are in progress, and 
many valuable relics have been discovered. About nine 
o'clock I arrived at a little fishermen's village, called Porto- 
scuro, but so small and insignificant as not to be noted on any 
map I had seen. I was unfortunate in missing the boat at 
this point, and had to wait several hours for its return. 
About eleven o'clock, however, I started in a sail boat from 
Portoscuro for San Pietro. An hour's sail brought me to 
Carlo Forte, the only settlement on the Island of San Pietro. 



236 APPENDICES. 

It is a small town, and, what is quite a rarity in this country, 
the houses look clean, are whitewashed, and numbered on 
the outside. The town is surrounded by a wall, and sur- 
mounted by a fortress. At a distance the appearance of the 
town is quite pleasing. The white houses, the gray walls and 
fortress, and the tall white spire of the church, make quite a 
striking contrast. A few fishermen's boats were lying at the 
wharf, and the lazy beggars were sunning themselves, lying 
on the hard cobble-stones, as we approached. Having landed, 
I went to the residence of the French Consul, Mr. Romby, to 
whom I had a letter of introduction. He received me very 
kindly. But now the object of my mission seemed to be an 
absurd one. When I mentioned that there probably were the 
ruins of a church on the island, erected in the thirteenth cen- 
tury, people shook their heads. There were two churches, 
indeed, one called a cathedral ; but one was wooden, and had 
a spire ; the other, a dingy-looking stone building, with a 
cracked bell. Mr. Romfty, however, very politely walked out 
with me about the island, and explained all that he could of the 
history of the churches then existing. Outside the wall, how- 
ever, nearly a mile from the shore, we came upon the ruins of 
something, either a house or a church. The gentleman said 
it had been there ever since he had lived on the island. He 
knew not, and had never cared to inquire, what it originally 
was. This, he said, was the only ruin on the island, except 
an old Roman wall and two deep wells ; both of which we 
examined. At some distance from this spot were the remains 
of an old catacomb. Thinking that possibly this might be 
the ruins I was in search of, I made two sketches of it for 
you, that you might consider the matter yourself. There 
are reasons why this might have been the church known as 
the u Ecclesia Nervorum Innocentiutn." First, Because it 
stood entirely by itself, no habitation being within twenty rods 
of it and is on a slight eminence. Second, The building 
faces directly east, if we may consider the standing wall as the 
ylace of the altar ; and this is probable, as it had a high 



APPENDICES. 237 

window, and no door. Third, The stones were quite large 
and irregular at the base, and smaller as they approached the 
top. Fourth, It had not the appearance of having been re- 
stored, since the ground was strewed with stones and debris. 

The inhabitants of the island are a mixture of the Genoese 
and Italians. Coral fishery and the catching of the tunny 
are the chief employments of the men : ihe women cultivate 
the fields. Northward from the Island of San Pietro are two 
smaller islands, which from the shores of Sardinia appear to 
be but parts of the island itself. On these islands are several 
houses ; and here are the peculiar nets placed for catching the 
tunnies, which are taken in the summer months only. 

I regret that I cannot give you a photograph of the island 
or its buildings. I was promised some by a brother of the 
consul, who was an amateur photographer, but never received 
them. 

This is about all the information I can give you of the Isl- 
and of San Pietro and the Church of the New Innocents. 
I was obliged to return that same afternoon to Iglesias, and 
could not spend more time on the island. 

Very truly yours, 

Newton Perkins. 

It will be seen that Mr. Perkins thinks that the 
edifice he saw was the Church of the New Inno- 
cents. The argument seems so conclusive that I 
have not hesitated in claiming that it was. It is 
briefly thus : — 

Three hundred years ago, in the middle of the 
sixteenth century, Albericus said that the church 
was still standing, and still resorted to as a shrine. 
It continued to be so for some time after, we do 
not know how long, but let us allow fifty years. 
Therefore the church was entire, up to about 1600. 



2 3 8 



APPENDICES. 



After this, there were no inhabitants upon San 
Pietro until 1737, when the colonists under Taglia- 
fico landed. Yet they find, upon landing, a church, 
and wonder at it, on an uninhabited island. What 
they found must have been that which was stand- 
ing in 1600, for there was no population in the 
interval to build any edifices, and there never had 
been any before, except those sent by the Pope to 
erect the monument and shrine of the children. 

Now, Smythe saw the same edifice that the col- 
onists found ; he was there fifty years ago, and the 
people pointed it out to him as having been dis- 
covered by Tagliafico and his followers, and as 
having, as they supposed, given the name to the 
island. He saw this structure when it was less 
dilapidated than now, and says it was a church. 
Furthermore, the edifice of which Mr. Perkins 
speaks is the same one that Smythe describes, and 
thus all the links seem found to identify this lonely 
ruin with the Church of the New Innocents, built 
six hundred years ago. 

I wish here to acknowledge my indebtedness to 
the value of Mr. Perkins's kind cooperation, and my 
regret that owing to haste I omitted to do so in the 
first edition. 



APPENDICES. 239 



APPENDIX C. 

This is a quotation from the " Anonymous Rhyth- 
mical Chronicle," given with the errors in Latinity 
uncorrected. It seemed a curious and fitting opening 
for the book, being a resume of the event, although 
it only mentions the leader of the German children. 
Having been advised to do so, I give a translation 
that is quite literal, and in which I have imitated 
the original in ending the lines of each section with 
a uniform rhyme. It will be readily seen that there 
was no poetical charm to be imperilled by transla- 
tion, for it is merely a metrical narrative. The only 
trace of poetry is the licensee taken in the enumera- 
tion of the nationalities, for that is greatly exag- 
gerated : — 

3kubr. Behold the pilgrimage of the children, and how they 

were deceived by incantations : 
In the times of which we're speaking, a stupendous thing 

arose, 
And grew upon the earth as a wondrous poison grows. 
Because its mien was fair, the more it spread its woes, 
And throve by arts of darkness that only magic knows. 
3£ul)V. This is the song that was everywhere sung : 
Nicholas, Christ's servant, will surely cross the main, 
And, leading little innocents, Jerusalem attain. 
Dry-shod he'll safely tread the sea, while waters rage in vain, 
And youths and virgins fair unite in chaste affection's chain. 
Such things will he at once achieve, and God will honor gain ; 
Baptizing faithless pagans too, where other hosts have slain ; 
And all, within Jerusalem, shall raise this happy strain. 



240 APPENDICES. 

By little ones will Christ bring peace, without the battle's 

pain, 
To glorify whom He redeemed by His own blood's red stain, 
And give, at last, to every child, a crown, as king to reign. 
3&ul)r. Such devotion was never heard before. 
All ears do listen eagerly, and even girls grow bold. 
They preach to those of sixteen years, and few are e'en so old. 
The boys compete with eagerness that they may be enrolled, 
They break away, and, if restrained, are not to be consoled. 
Hungarian, Teuton, Frank alike, does this delusion hold ; 
Bohemian and Lombard too, nor is the Breton cold. 
From Flanders and Westphalia, the bands like billows rolled ; 
The Frisian and Norwegian join as did their sires of old — 
With itching foot and eager eye. Foes hunt them, though, 

for gold. 
The people of old Brindisi treat them with shame untold ; 
And in the lowest dens of vice, the girls as slaves are sold. 
Grief takes the place of joy in homes, and many knells are 

tolled ; 
Mothers, like Rachel, mourn the young whom death's cold 

arms enfold. 
Thus sadly children are deceived when lying tales are told. 



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